Heart of Gold
by seaa
Summary: Heero, crown prince of Hei, is cursed with immortality and the touch of gold, making him a bitter youth, unable to live but forced to. One day Duo, a wandering minstrel, stumbles along, plunging into his life with every intention of helping - can he? 1x2
1. Prologue

Title: Heart of Gold  
Author: Seaa )  
Rating: PG-13 - R  
Pairing: 21x2, 34, 65  
Genre: AU, Fantasy  
Archive:  
Warnings: probable OOC, slight angst, sap.  
Disclaimer: I have never, nor will I ever, own Gundam Wing and all things contained within.  
Summary: Heero, crown prince of Hei, is cursed with immortality and the touch of gold, making him a bitter youth, unable to live but forced to. One day Duo, a wandering minstrel, stumbles along, plunging into his life with every intention of helping the Prince – can he?  
Notes: Loosely based on the story of King Midas' touch of gold. Feedback is much appreciated.

--

**Prologue**

He opened his eyes, feeling the last traces of sleep wash over him and away from him. He blinked; just once, before his eyes came to flutter close again, lashes lying against his face. He felt himself breathe; in, out, in, out, chest rising up before making its way down. The room smelt familiar, like it always smelt – musty, the air thick in some way.

The plush blanket felt heavy upon his chest, and he brought up a hand – invisible, in the complete darkness – to push it away, the once comforting feeling of warmth now constraining him in its utter thickness. Before that, his hand had been lying facing upwards, above the blankets, the way it had remained throughout his entire night's sleep. Now, as he readied it for its descent downwards, he felt his heart catch in his throat; that despised flicker of hope moved through him, and finally, he brought his hand down to clasp a handful of the blanket. For a second – perhaps he simply imagined it – he felt the warmth, the softness, the reassuring touch of the cloth – then it was nothing but chilly. Bitterness seeped through every part of him, and his cold blue eyes opened again, this time staying that way.

Heero Yuy, crown prince of all the lands of Hei, pushed the blanket of gold away from him, leaving it for the servants to pick up. They always did. Nothing ever changed; everything stayed exactly the same as it had the day before, and the day before that. It was like each day was the echo of the last, from dawn to dusk. He was _living_ a déjà vu; he was living a mockery of life.

Heero sat up and moved to the side of the bed. His feet hit the floor, and he placed both hands on either side of him, pushing himself up. He didn't have to wait for the bedcovers to turn gold on him – after all, he was already secure in the knowledge that they would. They did, everyday, when he got up the exact same way he just had.

Nothing changed.

The moment he stood up, dim light flooded the room. He couldn't help but stare at his hands for a moment.

They didn't look wrong, or tainted, or different.

His hands could have been anyone's. There was nothing there to indicate that they might do anything else, anything but function, as they should have. His fingers were long, slender even, and as far as hands went, they were well shaped.

A tiny scar lay on his left hand, from when he was five, and cut his hand on a broken piece of glass when the windowpane shattered. The weapons master had been taking him through the basic techniques of throwing knives and one such attempt – using bladeless knives, of course – and gone a little off target and hit the window instead.

Heero had always found it slightly ironic that while practising knife throwing, of all things, he'd cut his hand on _glass_, being stupidly clumsy and tripping over another of his practise knives. To this day, he still wasn't sure how he'd manage to maneuver such a ridiculous move… Not that it mattered.

Nothing mattered. Not anymore.

His hand fell to his side and he resisted the urge to push his hair away from his face. It wasn't clear if his touch could turn _him_ into gold, but he wasn't about to try.

_Why not?_

The thought hit him suddenly, painfully and unbidden. And yet, why, why not? He had nothing in this world that he could want, and the oblivion of death seemed… comforting.

But… no. That would be betrayal, of his family, of all those he had ever cared for, ever cared for him. It wouldn't be fair.

And to do that would mean that he had stopped hoping, something he promised his mother never to do. Heero Yuy didn't break a promise.

He moved swiftly, his legs making quick work of the space between him and the door, resisting the thought that all he really wanted to do was fall into the darkness that sleep brought.

The darkness was his saviour.

-TBC-

--

A/N: I started this around two years ago, when I was at the peak of my GW obsession. For a very long time this fic was my baby, and I had every intention of finishing it before ever posting. Since then, however, I drifted away, time passed, and I didn't touch it at all. I just stumbled across it a few days ago, and figured that maybe posting what I have of it so far will be enough to inspire me to complete it. That means that yes, feedback will be very nice indeed.

Also, I'm looking for a beta-reader, someone who can hopefully not only look out for my various mistakes, but help me with the characterization of the characters later on, something I'm not feeling terribly confident about now. Anyone interested? Drop me an email, and we'll talk. : )


	2. ena

**Chapter One**

Duo smiled, as he felt the light, cool summer wind float around him. The sun was moments to making its way down, and the sight of… well, life, was certainly something to be glad for. He felt happier than he had in days; the familiar weight of his lute on his back, the green grass backing him, the sight of children playing in front of him.

Perhaps his wandering was over; for all that he enjoyed the feeling of freedom, he could certainly grow to appreciate living in this town, it's simple-ness the most pleasurable thing of all. After all, music was nothing if not another way to bring joy into people's lives, and he knew that every town enjoyed having a minstrel to provide entertainment.

After all, it wouldn't be like it had been at his home. If he ever settled down for good, it would be because he wanted to, and he'd do it living the life he chose.

He sighed, feeling for a second the strain of walking for miles over barren land, and before that had been the damned forest. He wondered for a moment how different his life would have been if he'd only remained at home, carrying on his father's business, like he'd meant to. Perhaps he shouldn't have followed the call of his strange wanderlust, the addictive lure of the music as it enchanted him like nothing else had ever done…

Duo's parents hadn't known where they had gone wrong when he professed his desire to become a minstrel. It was almost outrageous; no one from the small village of Rann had ever wanted to leave, to do anything but what was expected of them.

'No,' Duo thought, with slight bitterness, 'they never did anything but what they were born to do, and they were all so damned satisfied.' He hadn't been. He'd wanted more, he'd wanted to see the world, to go beyond the borders of his village, away from the stifling, familiar world. He'd wanted to follow the call of his music; the old lute his only happiness.

Perhaps it had been the thought of entering the lands of Hei that had made him follow the minstrel Maxwell as he left after his short visit into Rann.

Hei, the land of dreams. No one knew for sure if what was said about it was true of false anymore, and people had stopped attempting to enter it many years ago, after many, many unsuccessful attempts. Ocean surrounded it on one side, immense stone walls on two more, and the great forest on the last. The minstrel had been making plans to enter through that one forest, to see for himself if it really was the land of gold, and Duo had been more than eager to follow him in his pursuit of the unknown.

So he had run away, the very night that the minstrel had left Rann. He stumbled across Maxwell's tent after having run half the night, a pack filled with some meagre items of clothing, food items and, of course, his precious lute perched high upon his shoulder. 

Not that he'd been accepted with open arms. Afraid to be charged with kidnapping or something of the like, and not wanting to "ruin Duo's future," as he said, Duo had been brought back to his family on daybreak, much chagrined and still very much feeling the call of the wild.

So, after much begging and pleading on the braided boy's part, and Maxwell's indifferent shrugs, they'd ridden off again, this time with Duo fully suited up with his very own horse, and his family's half-hearted approval.

Maxwell had understood the boy that Duo had been. They were alike, in the sense that they both wanted everything the great wide world had to offer. In time, Maxwell had been more of a father to Duo than his own had been; father, brother, teacher, confidant and best friend all in one. They travelled to many places together, performing, and Duo, in return, had applied great diligence – and much passion – into his music lessons.

Then, as they'd reached the edge of the forest separating them from all their dreams, Maxwell had been struck with the illness that had been sweeping through the village they'd stayed in for the night.

He'd died two mere nights later, leaving Duo on his own again.

Left alone, and having made a promise to do his utmost best, he'd fled the town, taking nothing but food, and leaving behind even his horse, in the midst of mourning and a fit of anger. He'd crossed the forest, making his way through it in days, driven by sorrow – and never wondering why he'd managed to go where no one else had.

Sometime in the forest, he'd made the conscious decision to take on the minstrel's last name as his own; after all, then man had meant more to him than his entire real family put together. As callous as that may have sounded, it ws nothing but true. It was, also, another way to remember him, a sort of tribute, as it may.

But now, everything was worth it, the travelling, the aimlessness, all the discomfort, and the sorrow. No matter what, he was still better off than he had been at home: he had his lute, his music, and he had his freedom.

And he had made it to Hei.

Duo stood still for a moment, his ears trying to pick up the rhyme the children were chanting as they played a skipping game.

"Run, run, run away  
Or the Golden Man will find you  
And come into your home at night  
And make but naught a sound  
He brings with him a special gift  
The worst gift of them all  
And with his touch you'll be no more  
As gold you will stand tall  
How many hours till he strikes?  
One, two, three, four…"

From a minstrel's point of view, the tune was… terrible, at best. The rhyming – if one could only call it that – was crude, the tune to which it was sung was catchy, little else. However, the look on their faces as the children ran in and out of the swinging piece of rope, the shrieks they made… he found _that_ simply adorable. Duo had to wonder, though, where that rhyme had started from – after all, tunes like those seldom came out of nowhere, they always had a shred of truth hidden within them.

Realising suddenly how his feet ached and how dry his throat was, he approached the group of younglings.

"G'afternoon," he said, making a sweeping bow, braid trailing after him. As he made his approach upwards, he beamed at them, violet eyes twinkling. "Name's Duo, and I was wondering if there's anywhere for a lonely minstrel to board."

They were looking at him with something resembling trepidation, and Duo wondered fleetingly if he was the first stranger these youngsters had seen in awhile. Never mind, he thought, if he were, then he was bound to be… interesting, if anything.

Making sure to keep the smile set firmly on his face – though that was second nature, he rarely had to try anymore – he said, "If you could only tell me where to go, I'd much appreciate it – I've been travelling for quite a while now, and my feet are about to fall off!" He let out a short laugh, winking at them. "I'd be willing to trade your assistance for a tune or two, once I get this old lute all tuned up."

One of the children, a boy that looked around six or seven, took a step up, staring up at him suspiciously. "Y'know, my mam said that there ain't no more minstrels travelling around, and there sure haven' been any since I've been 'round… what're'ya doing, comin' round 'ere, anyway?"

Duo met his gaze firmly. "Well, I don't know about the others, but I'm certainly a real minstrel, and if you'll let me get settled somewhere, I'll set about showing you, how's that?" He tried to force extra wattage into his smile, determined to win them over.

The dubious look hadn't left the boy's face, but since he seemed to be the bravest of the small group of children, Duo decided to pin his hopes of a _real_ bed for the night on him.

"What do you say, huh?" He grinned, and hoisted his lute case further upon his back.

The boy analysed Duo for a moment more, then, finally, seemed to decide that he was indeed worthy of help. "C'mon," he motioned, "I'll bring ya to Mister Quatre… He'll know what'ta do." With some amount of pride, he added, "Mister Quatre knows everything, y'know." He started walking, his legs taking on a brisk pace, and Duo started following him, with the rest of the children peering interestedly after them.

Without missing a pace, the boy flipped his head around to look at Duo, his sandy blond hair flipping about chaotically. "Oh," he added, as something of an afterthought, "Mam says we gotta be polite. Nice ta meetcha."

Staring straight into his brown eyes, Duo smiled, and nodded. "Nice to meet you too."

The place wasn't big, per say, Duo mused, but it certainly wasn't small. Houses littered the area, ranging from what he assumed was meant for one person, to something that seemed could fit a family of five or six. Everyone appeared to know everyone else, so when their small troop wandered down the middle of the street, Duo wasn't exactly surprised to see faces sticking out of windows. He didn't particularly mind, after all, a minstrel's day wasn't over till he'd put on a good show. And it could never be said that Duo didn't know how to handle a crowd.

He vaguely realised that they had been walking for quite some time now – perhaps this little village wasn't as little as he had first assumed. They had made quite a few turns, and for a while Duo wondered who this Master Quatre was.

It must have been all the walking, but an image of a grumpy, wrinkled old man fleetingly entered his mind, and he grinned a little, shaking his head slightly, bangs flipping randomly.

Duo caught one of the older girls looking at him, as she shifted restlessly around the side of the road, trying to look as if she had something she had to do there – and not quite succeeding. He wondered if these people really had so few visitors that one mere musician caught so much interest.

'Then again,' he thought, smiling crookedly as the girl blushed and looked away as he met her gaze – 'perhaps it wasn't so much that, but rather something else.' Not that it would do her or any other potential young ladies any good …

"We're here," the boy announced, bringing Duo's attention to a house that looked sinfully cozy – especially to his now very much aching feet. "This is where Mister Quatre stays."

The flock of children that had gathered around Duo parted, leaving him to walk up to the door. He knocked firmly, once, twice, and a third time.

"Come in!"

Duo pushed open the door, and entered the living area of a moderately sized house. It was nicely furnished, in line with his previous opinion of the outside of the place – it was cozy, very much so. The furniture was made primarily of wood, spectacular carvings decorating the sides of many of the pieces. A stunning – though small – marble table stood in the middle of the room, a vase of flowers filling it up neatly, and giving the room a slight aroma. It was surrounded with the wooden seats – some easily fitting two or three people at once – that were topped with comfortable cushions and fur rugs. Other tables made of wood this time, filled the areas left empty. It seemed slightly messy, but as a whole, the room made a very pleasant place.

Two doors at the back wall led out of the room, one at each side, while a middle corridor led straight to the back of the house. To the left of the room lay a fireplace, and though that now lay dormant, the thought of the warmth it would give off turned him to mush. Two flickering candles lit up the room in a warm daze, standing atop the mantelpiece topping the fireplace.

The amount of space the room took up gave Duo the impression that it was the centrepiece of the house, and the amount of seating and space seemed too much for one family, let alone one "Mister Quatre," and Duo assumed this must have been some sort of inn at one time.

His perusal of the place was interrupted up a soft "Hello," and he turned around to meet the green-blue eyes of one he assumed to be the now – to him, anyway - infamous Mister Quatre.

Duo wasn't sure what he had been expecting in this person, especially after his banishing that image of an unsightly old mad from his head, but even as he replied the greeting, he did know that whatever it was, the man in front of him wasn't exactly that. And definitely not a wrinkly old man, that was for sure.

This Quatre was a few inches shorter than Duo, giving him some semblance of pride – he had always been considered short by all those who'd bothered giving him their opinion. The man – though, perhaps, like Duo, he wasn't quite that yet – had stunning blond hair, lit by the sunlight streaming through the window, and Duo noticed a pair of turquoise eyes set in a face that seemed to smile more that it frowned.

Duo took a step back, making a short bow, before smiling at the person in front of him while hoisting the lute case up instinctively. He felt the blond studying him as he made his own assessment, and waited patiently for some sign of what to do next.

After a short moment, Quatre returned his smile. "Well," he said, meeting Duo's gaze, "It certainly isn't often we have visitors. Please," he gestured to the seats, "take a seat. You look… tired."

It wasn't until Duo sand into the plush cushions that he realised exactly how tired he was. "Thank you," he said, the hint of gratitude that entered his voice completely unbidden.

A mug of steaming tea took up his vision and he looked up to meet the green eyes of a stranger. Taking the cup, he thanked him, somewhat surprised.

Duo blew softly on the liquid, and looked at where Quatre had seated himself, the green-eyed stranger positioned – somewhat protectively, Duo observed – next to him.

When neither of them made any motion to start talking, Duo decided to start the conversation himself.

"I'm Duo. Duo Maxwell, that is. Minstrel, in fact." He grinned at them. "I may run and hide, but I never lie!" He gestured vaguely at his lute case with his empty hand. "I was travelling around when I came across this town, and, well, I'm more than ready for a good night's rest. I'll be willing to provide some entertainment in return, of course." He looked up.

Quatre nodded. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this is Trowa Barton," he motioned to the brunette next to him. "If you don't mind me asking, how exactly did you manage to come across out town? We aren't exactly used to having visitors."

Duo nodded. "I'd sort of noticed," he said, half grinning, bringing Quatre to another small smile, though the braided man noticed some lack of trust behind his smile and outwardly friendly air. Duo sighed, slightly.

"I suppose it's quite suspicious, then. Me, I mean." Quatre didn't reply, but the minor change in the blond's expression let Duo to high-five himself inside for reading the man right.

"I really appreciate your help, anyway."

"We really haven't done much at all," Quatre protested half-heartedly, but Duo realised – with some relief – that the slight suspiciousness behind Quatre's friendly expression was beginning to fade somewhat.

Duo took a sip of his tea, starting to talk again with the main intention of getting rid of the last remains of that suspicion.

"Well, like I said before, I'm a minstrel, and me and my…" Duo felt that familiar rise of emotion in his throat and frowned, before saying quickly, "my mentor. He-we reached the town bordering it, you know, beyond the forest. He got sick, and he died, later. I made it through the forest myself, and basically wandered around. I'll tell you, seeing this town was pretty much my saving grace." He paused, cracking a small smile.

"I realise you don't get many visitors round here, but I can't tell you how much I'd appreciate a room. Any room, I'm not exactly going to be fussy here."

Quatre had, sometime while Duo had been talking, gotten a strange look on his face. All the suspiciousness had disappeared, to be replaced with… bewilderment? Duo would be shocked, or worried, if his request was met with something like that, but the fatigue of walking and walking was finally catching up to him, and he wanted so much to just slump over on the chair and sleep.

Duo heard Quatre whisper something into Trowa's ear, and as Duo managed to catch a few lingering touches on both their parts, he couldn't help but wonder if there was something behind the walls of friendship.

The two had seemed to reach some sort of conclusion over Duo, because Quatre looked up and almost beamed at him.

"Well, I don't know how we can refuse you a room, especially as the sun is just about to set. I'll show you a room at the back. This used to be an inn, a long, long time ago."

Duo was about to ask a question about that, but Quatre appeared to have seen his weariness and took on an almost commanding tone. "You must be exhausted. Room, food, bath, sleep. In that order."

Duo snapped a salute all the while smiling gratefully at them. "Yes, sir!" he exclaimed, and allowed himself to be steered to the room at the back.

After Duo had retired to his room for some much needed sleep, Quatre sank down on the seat next to Trowa.

As the brunette gave him a look, Quatre asked, "Well?"

He received no response, but then again, after all these years, he hadn't really expected one, either.

"Do you think it's true then? Could he really be the one? I mean, no one, but _no one_ has ever made it through! They say that the old ones who lived here long ago charmed the forest itself, they say it actually rises up to fight against all travellers! How could one person have gotten through?" He pulled the rug up to cover his legs, shaking his head.

"If they are to be believed, than _they_ have also said that 'one with the purest heart of gold shall save them all.'"

Quatre looked up to see Trowa smile slightly.

"What do _you_ believe, then?"

"What does it matter? If you want to know what could have happened, why don't you ask Wufei?"

Quatre sighed, and stood up, smiling wryly. "If I didn't know better, best friend of mine, I'd think you were trying to drive me away from you!" He walked towards the door leading out, and looked back. "You should go back home soon… It's getting late out, and the sun's about to set. Make sure to blow out all the lights, and remember to lock the door after you leave. Good night… I'll see you tomorrow."

He missed Trowa's painful stare after him, and the brunette's lonely sigh, as Quatre walked out the door.

--TBC--


	3. dio

**_Chapter Two_**

Duo blinked blearily, as the bright streams of sunlight pored through the windows and hit his face. The blankets were simply divine, and he let out a satisfied sigh. The window drapes were open – had he even closed them last night? – and he had almost forgotten how nice the morning sun could be when he wasn't lying in a bed of leaves and didn't have the prospect of another day's worth of walking. He had, upon leaving the town edging the forest (he could never seem to remember its name) stupidly left behind his bedroll, among other things.

Then again, he remembered with a start, he hadn't had much trouble upon crossing the forest – nothing compared to the dire tales they told. Men being ripped apart by tree branches, falling into pits that hadn't existed moments ago, having bones broken and limbs twisted by tree roots…

How was it that he had forgotten all those stories, in all the time he had spent in the forest? He had made it across fine, even comfortably – the beds he had made of moss and leaves had done their job well, there was never anything obstructing his direct path, no scary creatures or demonic trees; there were times he could even swear he heard a bird song or two.

It was, he thought with a slight shiver, like the place even _wanted_ to let him in…

He let that thought settle, then a laugh wormed its way out of him. Hah! He'd never even believed those foolish child tales, and now he was imagining the forest taking a liking to him!

"You've been in the sun too long now, Duo," he murmured, stretching his arms and letting out a yawn.

Showing impeccable timing, a knock rang out on his door. "Quatre?" he ventured, taking a wild guess.

"Oh, good, Duo, you're awake!" He sounded relieved, and the door swung open, showing Quatre, already impeccably dressed and smiling brightly. "Good morning!"

Duo returned the smile and the greeting, and sprung out of bed.

"Well, I just came in to make sure you were up, and to tell you breakfast is ready."

"Mm hm," Duo murmured his assent, rubbing his eyes.

"I'll let you get ready, then."

"Wait!" Quatre turned around, looking at him quizzically. "Just – just that I wanted to say thanks again… I really didn't expect you to do all this stuff."

"Oh! No, it's no problem at all. Really, it's fine!"

"If you say so," Duo said, a slight hint of dubiousness entering his voice.

"I'm being honest here, Duo. You… you just make yourself welcome. It's… it's good." Quatre was out of the room before Duo could reply, and the brunette blinked.

"Well… that was… strange." And Duo couldn't keep out the thought that perhaps Hei was a solitary land for a _reason_.

He opened the small bag he carried everywhere with him – he attached it to his lute case – and removed his only other tunic and pair of slacks. He forwent the thought of a bath as and the smell of breakfast wafted through the room, settling instead for a splash of water on his face from the washbasin someone had left out.

Duo undid his hair from its braid and removed the small brush also in the bag. Brushing his hair was instinct now, after all this time, so he let his mind slip into a calm, playing through the chords of a song he was in the midst of writing.

Before long, he was done, his hands already separating his hair into three sections, braiding it deftly, with great precision. He attached the tie on at the end, and got up from the edge of the bed.

Duo went out the door, making sure to close it carefully after he left. His room had been the first one to the right of the main corridor, so it was only a matter of exiting and walking the short distance to the main room.

As soon as he entered, Duo noticed Quatre brighten up, and beckon him closer, to where the blond was sitting with three other males.

Trowa he knew from the night before, but the other two were new to him. One was an oriental man, looking quite severe, and the other made quite the contrast – tall, blond and, Duo thought, almost regal looking. They were rather a striking pair.

Duo noted with some amusement that Trowa and Quatre had once again been sitting next to each other, but whether that was on purpose or they had simply done so unconsciously, he wasn't sure.

He nodded slightly at the group, smile already on. "Good morning," he said.

"Oh, yes, morning, Duo. Sit down!" Quatre gestured randomly, and Duo chose a chair, pulling it close enough to be polite, but far enough that he wasn't intruding too much.

A plate of a random assortment of foods was already sitting on the table nearest to them, so he reached out, stomach grumbling.

They must have finished their previous conversation, and while Quatre, Trowa, and "tall blond man" had started a new one, the black haired young man was studying him, a frown on his face. This annoyed him a little, and Duo looked up to grin at him, swallowing his mouthful.

"Oh, we haven't been introduced, have we? Duo Maxwell, minstrel by trade. Pleasure to meet you." He stuck his hand out in greeting.

The other man looked at his outstretched hand suspiciously, before finally accepting it with his own and shaking it firmly, saying, "Chang Wufei. Or, some would say, Wufei Chang."

"I know," Duo said simply, and he did in fact know something about the way things went where he assumed this man had been born. Namely, the lands of the East. Duo wondered how he could have made his way here, past the stone-wall that stood between Hei and the Eastern lands, but said nothing.

The black haired man merely raised an elegant eyebrow.

They stopped shaking hands, and Duo said casually, winking, "Good grip."

"I could say the same." Wufei nodded curtly, and Duo took that to signal the end of their so-called conversation, placing another bite of food in his mouth.

The exchange had gotten the others' notice, and Duo noted with some amusement the small smile on "tall blond man's" face. He caught Duo's eye and held his own hand out.

"Zechs Marquise. Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Duo Maxwell, and welcome to Shin, of Hei."

Duo nodded, accepting the handshake, and noted the name of the town for future reference.

"Duo arrived last night," Quatre said.

"Yes, we noticed," Zechs said, slowly, "You made quite the show, it was hard not to."

Duo shrugged. "Surprisingly enough, I wasn't trying to. I had supposed that many people hadn't seen a minstrel in a while."

"It was because they hadn't seen _anyone_ new before. The last person to enter Hei did so close to fifty years ago."

Duo looked at Wufei with some measure of surprise. "What about yourself? I know enough to realise that you're not exactly native to Hei."

Wufei scowled and narrowed his eyes, but Zechs noticed this and jumped to the rescue. Sort of.

"Wufei was born here… in fact, all four of us have been here all out lives," he said. "Many years ago, Hei had a slight… underground black market going around. Slave trade, if one can call it that. Of course, it was soon put to a halt, but it had gotten quite well underway by then. The captives had no way of getting back, and most of them had nothing to go back to, as they were mainly those of clans that had either been completely captured or slaughtered. They simply… stayed, Wufei is great proof of that."

"I come from the Dragon clan!" Wufei pronounced, indignantly. "The Dragon clan has a long line of ancestry, with many of my forefathers great and honourable men!"

Zechs shrugged. "Sorry, but you're the scholar here, not me."

"Scholar?" Duo asked.

"Wufei studies the ancient scripts, and he collects the old books, some even chronicling to the beginning of Hei's founding," Quatre explained. "He learns about the history, the culture of the various groups within Hei, and even some of the Eastern lands beyond."

"Of course, that's just a hobby he inherited from his parents," Zechs added, smiling. "His real job is to teach the younger ones, you know, things such as reading, writing, arithmetic."

"You people do not have to talk about me as if I'm not here," the black haired man protested.

"Because, that would not be honourable, am I right?" Zechs winked slightly at the rest of them, not trying terribly hard to hide it from Wufei. Duo shrugged mentally; it seemed to be some sort of private joke?

Quatre shook his head. "Later, later. Duo," he turned to face the latter, "the reason we called Wufei and Zechs to join us here is because they both have some experience in the history and legends of the late Hei lands. And, of course, they both have some knowledge in weeding out the mere fiction in all that. Wufei, you know, collects scripts and studies such things, and no matter what Zechs might try to tell you, he has been helping Wufei in his work since… since he took it upon himself to drag Wufei away from his books back when we were all children." He smiled, as Zechs grinned, shrugging helplessly. "Of course," Quatre added, "It seems to have backfired upon him somewhat, but we'll leave that for now."

"You see, Duo, we – Shin – have been solitary for what seems like forever. Even I, having been here all my life, have never seen a single stranger enter our lands. To the younger ones, it may not seem so strange, but to those who have heard or been told some of the legends… Well, suffice to say you are quite a miracle, simply by being here."

Duo narrowed his eyes. "You're saying I'm sorta magic, then?" He let out a peel of laughter, grinning broadly at the end. "That's real funny… gotta admit I wouldn't have thought of it myself. C'mon, all I did was walk through the forest, real nice… No trouble. Nothing wrong with that, right?"

"Exactly!" Quatre exclaimed triumphantly.

"Look, we realise that this is a lot to take in, but we have all discussed it, and it fits perfectly to everything said in the ancient texts!" Zechs told him.

"The forest is said to defend the unwanted," Trowa put in, "Which, until now, has been everyone. Sometimes strange forces are also said to intervene… trespassers are said to be stopped in their tracks, often before even stepping a foot into the forest itself."

"The rulers of Hei had strange magic at their command… old magic, very great magic. They had sorcerers, they had utmost power keyed to only them… and yet, they loved their people, and never once used their power for wrong. They had true honour."

Duo still didn't particularly understand, something was escaping him, annoying him, and he studied Wufei's face for any trace of jest, coming out empty handed.

_'…stopped in their tracks…'_ Trowa had said, _'…before even stepping a foot into the forest…'_

"The town beyond the forest," he said suddenly, not able to bring himself to sound more chipper, "what do you know of that?"

"We haven't much power at our disposal; our knowledge is severely hampered, I cannot-"

"What do you know?" Duo demanded again. He had to know, he had to. If something was wrong, and Hei was somehow morbidly… picking off the potential visitors, then Maxwell the bard…

"They have said to be accursed with a illness, ever since Hei was… changed. Much time has passed, they are supposed to have some sort of immunity, but any visitors…" Zechs paused.

"They die, usually within two or three days, if that." Wufei met Duo's own violet tinted eyes. "To the village's defence, they don't seem to realise that the illness can kill, just that they have such a thing. They used to have stronger defences, but these late few years – there's really been no need to. I think everyone seemed to realise that there was no need to make an effort to scare off potential visitors when there were none to be found. But the illness itself… perhaps yet another way that Hei uses to defend itself, and what it holds dear."

"That's a rather stupid way," Duo said plainly, resisting the urge to either smash something or burst out into tears like he hadn't since he was a mere babe. "Killing innocent strangers, who are wanting only to follow where their heart takes them? You must know that Hei is seen as heaven by some, and hell by others. Couldn't some of those ridiculous sorcerers you claim you have do something about that damned demonic forest, or the curse upon those in the village? Do the rulers care only about the people of Hei, and to hell with everyone else the this world?"

Duo shook his head and scowled, looking down so his bangs hid his eyes. "That's stupid."

"And yet, that is the way it has always been. You misunderstand us, Duo. Power, magic, all that Hei once held dear… there is nothing left," Quatre said.

Wufei coughed, looking around him. "If I may… I'll tell you what my father told me, many years ago.

"You must see, the rulers of Hei had always been nothing but kind to their people, since the beginning of their reign and the unity of the lands of Hei. Even it its very name you can see it. The First Rulers named Hei this way because, in their original tongue, 'Hei' means peace.

However, the land of Hei that you think you know… it is as much a dream to us as it is to you. Perhaps we had that once, but no longer."

Duo realised that Wufei's eyes were glinting slightly, and that his stance had changed. The raven haired male was now sitting up straighter, holding himself with a surety that had appeared from somewhere.

"Hei benefited from this excellent rule, for many, many years. This very town was once something of a capital. In the First Rulers' original tongue the name of this town, Shin, means something close to 'in one's heart'. Another speculated meaning is central, or core." He gave a little smile. "Names have always been somewhat of a novelty in Hei, so it is said. Nothing is named without a meaning behind it, and no one has yet proven that wrong.

"To the records I – we – hold, it has been something like five hundred and twenty one years since _it_ happened, by Hei's means of chronicling time, anyway. It was during the 598 year of the Old Rule, as we call it now, though then it was known simply as Rule of Hei. Now, we are living in the Broken Rule, but it is not known exactly when this name came to be."

Wufei paused, and relaxed, going no further. He shrugged minutely. "And that, that is really all there is."

"You got a little carried away with yourself on us now, 'Fei," Zechs said. "Though, it was terribly sweet of you to have taken notes just for today!"

The aforementioned scowled, and muttered, "For hell's sake, it's Wufei, _Wufei_." He hid a smirk, but not very well. "I imagine that must seem rather difficult to grasp, for one with your level of intelligence, though, so I suppose I'll let it slip this time."

Duo smiled slightly; for all that the two seemed to annoy each other greatly, and enjoy it, he could sense a rather close friendship that he supposed must run back to a time when both were young kids. He fell back into the seat, and realized that the tenseness that had slipped over him was gone.

"So I'm really the only one here, since all those years ago?" He shook his head. "Perhaps it might be because I'm a minstrel? Is there something that let me through because of that?"

Duo's question was met with a collective shaking of heads, and he sighed, realising, "No, I don't think so, either. My… teacher was a minstrel, and one much superior to me, and he… contracted the sickness when we stopped… But there is nothing special about me!" he exclaimed, desperately even. "It's not like I've done anything of note…"

"Oft we underestimate ourselves," Quatre said, "And sometimes good things lie in the small actions, not the larger ones. No matter what you may or may not have done, you're here now, in Hei, and that must mean something."

"And yet we still have not discovered what it is," Wufei grumbled, unhappily. "The legends and rumours say much, but nothing is supported by fact."

Duo coughed, suddenly feeling tired. Things were _not_ supposed to turn out this way. "What is this, some sort of weird kind of intervention?" He laughed, though not finding anything very funny.

"Duo-" Quatre began, but Duo cut in.

"Maybe you'd like to explain something to me first. You keep mentioning '_it'_ and something about what Hei holds dear… what is that about? And what happened to make Hei change so drastically?"

"Right… I should have mentioned that. Basically, it's all to do with a curse. _The_ curse. The prince. Or rather, the curse upon the prince. There was a misunderstanding in the royal court, and one of the sorcerers thought the royal family was cheating him out of his due worth. He looked up an ancient curse, one that should never, _ever_, have been used, and struck the most vulnerable one of the royal family: the newborn heir to the throne, the crown prince.

"The curse was one that the man must have found fitting, the curse of a half life, a meaningless life. The prince was cursed with the touch of gold." Zechs stopped, and this prompted Wufei to continue for him.

"Nothing happened, until the prince turned eighteen. On his very birthday, he woke up, and as he rose from his bed, the sheets he grasped turned to gold. From that day on, everything he touched was real no more. A living flower turned to one of gold upon his touch; any food he may have tried to eat was uneatable once it touched his lips.

"The prince found that he simply did not need to eat anymore, not to survive, anyhow. Nor drink, for that matter. With nothing to sustain him, his body kept living, purely upon the power of the curse. As months, years passed, he didn't age at all."

"A half life…" Duo murmured, mainly to himself.

"A cursed one," Quatre agreed.

"He grew solitary, and hate rose in his heart, making him bitter and angry. He could no longer stand to be amongst people, for they simply reminded him what he wasn't." Wufei's dark eyes glazed over once again – Duo was beginning to assume he had a habit of throwing himself completely into his work - and as Wufei told the story, he seemed to lose himself in the memory of the yesteryears.

"He made his father cut Hei off completely. The king, driven with sorrow, made the harsh decision to awake the ancient spells that would protect Hei from the outside world: cutting off any possible route of entry into the land, but at the same time, caging its people inside.

The years kept passing, and as the prince had to watch his mother die an old lady, while he still bore much of his youth… he couldn't take the strain of the cursed life anymore. He reached for a blade, and as it turned to gold, tried to take his own life. He didn't die – gold, as bound by the curse, could not kill him, making him unable to take his own life. Not only that, now he realised – he would never die. He would live on for eternity, watching everyone die, and he would keep living his half life – with the knowledge that he could have all the gold and wealth he needed, but never truly live, and be happy."

Wufei shook his head, eyes clearing. "Much time has passed, of course… Stories were passed down, and no one really knows what is completely true and what is made up."

"But the prince," Duo wondered, "He still lives, then? Why has no one gone to look for him, to try to help him?"

"No one can," Zechs said. "The palace is also hidden, even from us. Besides, many are too afraid to go, for fear that it would anger the prince, and he will turn them into statues of gold. There are also silly rumours that the prince actually enjoys turning unwary trespassers into statues, and decorating his garden with them."

"Untrue, of course," Quatre hurried to add. "But people talk, there is no way to stop that from happening."

"We always assumed that something would have to change, eventually, as the scripts say they should," Wufei said. "But I never imagined it would be now…"

"And there is nothing at all to be said of how the curse can be lifted? Nothing?"

"Not really… There is no certain way that would definitely work, but there are stories, of course, tales that say that the prince can be freed again…"

"How?" Duo asked, looking at Wufei.

"Does it matter?" Wufei snapped, growing annoyed, "I tell you, I have looked and looked, but there is nothing that can cure the curse, only fool's stories and lies!"

Duo watched, silently, as Zechs put a hand on Wufei's lap, to calm him down. The raven-haired man sighed, and opened his mouth, but Duo started first.

"I'm sorry if I've offended you – I really didn't mean to do anything of the sort. I was merely thinking that the prince must be so terribly lonely… One would think that he'd be hurting, wouldn't you say? If there was a way to help him, and perhaps save Hei as well…" Duo trailed off, letting the silence do what words could not.

No one said anything, and as things started getting uncomfortable, he tried to imagine the silence away, only to have an idea flit – or rather, barrage – into his mind.

"Me!" he exclaimed.

"D-Duo?" Quatre glanced at him with questioning eyes.

"I can go! You said yourself, there must be something about me that made me able to enter, and, hey, even if none of us knows what it is, it has to be there, right? If I was able to get into Hei, maybe I'll be able to make it to the palace too. And if the prince is really there, and all the stories are right, I'll try to talk to him, get him to help to find a way to change things back to the way they are."

They looked dubious, and with good reason, he supposed. After all, there was no way of knowing if everything was indeed true, and Duo could simply be heading on a wild goose chase. But he had nothing to keep him from going, nowhere to be, and no one waiting for him. That brought on strange pangs of… something, but now, it seemed like he was the perfect person to go.

Besides, as they had been telling Duo of the story, he couldn't help but feel it was simply not fair for the prince to go on living that way. Duo understood loneliness; perhaps not to the extent of the prince's self-imposed exile in his own castle, but Duo could sympathise. And if there was anything, anything that he could do – well, shouldn't he at least try?

Having succeeded in convincing himself, he focused on the four people sitting by him.

"I will go," he said, firmly. "There is nothing stopping me, and nothing I have to lose, and, well, everyone could gain something from this! If nothing comes out of the journey, I would have enjoyed the chance to see Hei, and you will not lose anything, am I right?"

"We… we can't ask you to do this," Wufei said, uncomfortably. "It–wouldn't be right."

"Well, that's fine. You didn't ask. I offered. It _is_ my idea, you know." Duo grinned at them. "I'm a minstrel, and all I've really been doing since I started learning how to be one has been travelling. I'm used to it, it's not extra inconvenience."

"But you don't know Hei," Quatre protested. "It would be horrible if something happened to you!"

Duo wrinkled his nose, the rose his eyebrows at them. "Anyone offering to take me to where this alleged castle is supposed to be?"

No one said anything.

"Come on!" Duo said, "You must have some clue… Anything?"

Wufei looked like he was fighting some harsh internal battle, and finally he said, unhappily, "Well, I do have some rough idea of the area…"

"What?" Zechs said, staring at him, "You never mentioned anything to me about that!"

"It was my father – he started looking for the whereabouts of the place. Before he died, he told me where to find all the information… He told me to keep it a secret, to continue trying to find it, and if I did…"

"To go looking for it." Zechs stated, folding his arms. "Okay."

"I would have told you!" Wufei exclaimed, "I really would! But I gave my word!"

"No, that's fine," Zechs said, sounding like the exact opposite. His voice changed, sounding almost bitter. "It's not like we said we'd share everything with each other."

"Zechs…" Wufei said, voice almost pleading.

"Yes, Wufei?"

"Never mind," the latter half whispered, turning away from the blond man and facing Duo instead. "I will take you there, I suppose."

"Thank you," Duo said, feeling uncomfortable, but grinning nevertheless, as he was prone to doing. "Hey, so this is great! We can go tomorrow, if that's fine with you?"

"I'm going," Zechs said, suddenly. At Wufei's sudden stare, he shrugged impassively. "I won't get in your way or anything, don't worry about that."

"I wasn't."

"Then that's fine!" Duo said cheerily, trying to forget about the tension. "Wow… we've been talking for a long time now."

"Yes, yes." Quatre glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "It's been quite a while. When exactly would you like to leave?"

"Tomorrow morning," he stated, "There's really no point in stalling, right? I have nothing much to pack, just my few things, and my lute, and we can go."

"Right then," Quatre said, "Trowa?"

The tall man nodded, and Quatre smiled. "I guess I'd better go pack enough food for five, then." Duo looked at him. "Well, you don't really think I'd miss out on this, do you now?"

Duo laughed. "I can't say I'd know for sure, but I'm glad you're not planning to, anyway!" He shook his head. "Damn, this is fast…"

"If you want to wait," Quatre said gently, "We can."

"No, no. Never let it be said that Duo Maxwell is not up for an adventure!" He grinned at all of them. "We go tomorrow."

**-TBC- **

_a/n:_ Just want to say a huge, HUGE thank you to Jennifer (Kimiki) for doing the beta, and making me grin at her fun comments that help me NOT want to throw in the towel and give up. Thanks for really being a huge help!

Also, thank you so, **SO** much to the reviewers. They mean incredibly much to me and I appreciate every single one. They certainly make writing new chapters a whole lot easier. You are all simply wonderful… If you'd like to drop me a line, anything at all about the fic, or… whatever else, feel free to email me: seaa00 at yahoo .co .nz (leaving out the spaces and substituting that 'at' for the other at...)

Just a little note (I promise I'll shut up in the next few chapters), I use the English form of spelling. So… yeah. The 'u's are all meant to be there. ;p (Thanks, Jennifer, for thinking it is (somewhat) cool. :P)

One last thing... I have to say thank you to Emily who helped me so much all those years ago (okay, like...two) when I first started working on this fic. I know she's not in the GW fandom anymore, but I have to give her a shout out for being a major help to me while I was writing and, well, just the nicest friend. -huggs-


	4. tria

_**Chapter Three**_

The weight of the sword resting in his hand was familiar, and he grasped it tightly as Heero let his body enter the familiar patterns. There was simply no need to even think about what he was doing anymore, since he had been practising the very routine for years and years now.

The sword hissed as he swung it through the air, and Heero put every single ounce of hatred and anger he felt into each particular swing and thrust.

A thin sheen of sweat eventually covered his body; his hair was plastered to his face. He didn't care – the adrenaline had taken hold of him now, and nothing would stop him from finishing his routine.

And at last, the sword made its last cut through the air, and Heero paused. Out of old habit, he bowed slightly, but it was a mocking bow.

He frowned and dropped the sword on the ground, where it clashed heavily, the heavy gold hitting the surface. He removed his sweat-drenched shirt and let it slip from his hand.

_They_ would clean things up.

They always did, every day.

And now, Heero had to take his morning bath, like he had the day before. Of course, while doing so, he had to make very sure to keeps his palms touching only the rim of the golden bath itself, and not in the water. Literally swimming in gold while trying to take a bath wasn't a very nice thing to be doing.

He scowled bitterly, wondering if the sky would actually fall if he didn't have his morning bath. For one split second, he was struck with the painful need to run, run far, far away, and not to stop running till at last exhaustion struck him down, and perhaps, he could finally leave his very own hell.

But freedom wasn't so easily gained, he knew, and such wonderful ideas as those would never make it out into the light. Viciously, he pushed his hair away from his face, then clenched his fist.

"It has to end," he hissed, "This... can't go on forever."

'... Could it?'

He began his walk to the baths, mind kept empty by pure will, eyes glinting.

"Sire?"

Heero turned to face the source of the voice: one of the younger servants around his castle. He looked mutedly at the girl, waiting for her to speak.

"I... I was just wondering if... if you would be taking your midday... bath... now... Should I prepare... the baths?" The words burst from her like water from a broken damn, and Heero almost found it funny.

"Later," he said, offhandedly. It wasn't important. There was a long pause, and he returned to what he had been doing before the girl had arrived – staring at one of the many tapestries that hung lushly on the walls.

"Sire?"

Was she still there? He briefly wondered her name, and which family she came from. After all, he very well knew that all the parents around his castle warned their offspring to keep as far, far away from him as they could.

They raised their children to hate him; just as they had been brought up. He doubted there was a single living person within these walls who didn't hold some semblance of dislike for him.

So, then, what was this ridiculous _child_ doing, still standing close to him?

The answer came tumbling to him when he saw her flushed cheeks, the slight trembling coursing through her body, the tilt of her head.

It had been awhile since he had one of _them_. One of those utterly... well, he could be kind, but then again... one of those _stupid_ people. The ones that entertained the notion that they could break the curse; they could somehow... win his heart.

Sometime after the curse had begun to make itself known, a rumour had arisen that he could be saved, but only by a kiss from one with 'the purest heart of gold', or some other rubbish along those lines. He had ridiculed the idea when his parents had brought it up, after all some of the greatest mages in the land had confirmed that the curse was impossible to break. But that hadn't stopped the tiniest of hopes to take hold of him.

So, in those earliest days, he had almost welcomed them, hoping against all hope that one of them would be The One, the one that would free him.

But time had passed, as it was prone to do, and now if only they could realise that the heart they hoped to capture wasn't there. He had no heart to be won over, not anymore. That had died the moment he saw his mother, the only one who he had _ever_ loved, die upon that wretched bed, pale, cold... Old.

Not that he could have ever found even mild liking for those who had thrown themselves at him so willingly.

And now... here was another one of them.

Out of somewhere, a hatred rose within him, directed straight for the blond girl in front of him. Who did she think she was, that she could try for the impossible? Why was she not happy with what she had? She was young, and pretty enough... Though the servants were not permitted to leave the palace grounds, there were many whole families living within it. She could find herself a willing boy, build herself her own family, and educate her own daughters to stay away from the cold-hearted prince.

Too bad she was never going to get the chance to.

"Your name... ?" he asked, infusing a slight huskiness into his voice.

"Rel... Relena, sire." A heavy blush rose within her cheeks. He almost felt guilty...

"Ah... " It was barely a breath, and as he said it, he caught her eyes with his.

He held out a hand.

Her eyes were glazed, and he knew she had forgotten every tale, every horror story that had been told to her. She slowly held out a slim-fingered hand, to touch his own...

He watched, disinterestedly, as she shimmered slightly. Her mouth made an 'o', her eyes opened wide.

She froze in that position, and he almost could see the life being sucked out of her.

She made a rather appealing gold statue, he mused. Then, for a single, terrible moment, he was struck with the horror of what he had done.

It passed, the jaded years caught up with him, and he didn't care anymore.

He turned back to the tapestry, wishing that he could brush a hand over it, much like the girl had just done to his own.

But he couldn't. Its beauty was too great to be cursed with his touch.

* * *

Duo winced, as another thorny branch snagged his hair. It fell loosely around him – his original tie had been snapped a few yards back by a particularly vicious bush, and he had decided not to risk any more. 

"And you're positive that this is the best way to get there?" he asked again, for the countless time in the last hour or so. Not that he could tell as they were in a dense forest, and all of their precious sunlight barely trickled through the miniscule gaps between the high-rising trees.

Wufei paused, from his position at the head of the group. He hesitated, then nodded firmly. "I am positive this is the fastest way to reach the castle. It is said to be surrounded by dense plant growth and many great trees, so I am hoping that this," he gestured wildly, "is a good omen." His dark eyes darted around. "It should be late afternoon by now," he said, "and I think it would be smart to rest at the next possible stop."

Duo nodded. "No point in pushing ourselves too much, huh," he said. Wufei nodded, and continued walking. It was rather annoying, the way the dark haired man could keep going without so much as a pause. Duo slowed his pace, letting Trowa and Quatre – side by side – pass him. They were having some sort of meaningful conversation, Quatre murmuring intently and Trowa nodding along and adding a few words of his own every once in a while. They seemed very comfortable with each other, and Duo didn't particularly feel like interrupting them.

He fell back, to walk side by side with Zechs. The blond had said barely a word, since they'd set out two days ago, and things had been particularly tense between him and Wufei. "So," he said casually, every instinct willing him to say something, "have you all known each other for a long time?"

There was silence from the man, and just as Duo was resigning himself to a very boring journey, Zechs spoke. "Since birth," he said, dragging out the words. "I was four when Wufei was born. My mother was a midwife, among other things, and she delivered him herself." His eyes darkened. "She looked after me and my sister all by herself, for the first ten years of my life. I remember seeing him just once, one night, when he stormed his way into our house, shouting and ranting about something. My mother locked me in the cellar, telling me not to come out until morning. When she came down to let me out the next day... " he closed his eyes tightly, before continuing, "I knew what he had done to her. But mum never said a word about it, never ever looked with anything other than a smile at her growing stomach... or at me. Nine months later, Relena was born. Then, when Relena turned five, my bastard of a father deemed it fit to jump back into our lives. He charmed Relena over completely, with sugarcoated words, pretty dresses and nice dolls. He left, with her following him willingly, a year later. Never saw them again."

"I'm sorry," Duo said softly.

"Don't be," Zechs said, twisting a smile at him. "Probably the best thing that could have happened, anyway. Relena never seemed happy to lead a simple life – she always talked of gold, and being a princess, and servants to cater to her every need. I wish I could say she had been spoilt, but she hadn't. Mum ran a tight household."

Duo nodded. "And you and Wufei have been friends since birth?"

Zechs smiled tenderly. "Pretty much. His mother brought me right up to her bed. I can still remember picking up this tiny, shrivelled baby. I couldn't believe that his mother let me hold him, but she did, and I promised her that in return I'd always look after him."

Duo grinned. "Big words for a four year old."

Zechs picked a leaf out of his hair absentmindedly. "Perhaps, but I meant them wholeheartedly." He glanced ahead, a smile tugging at the edge of his lips as he saw Wufei engaged in friendly banter with Quatre.

"He's always been there for me," he told Duo solemnly. "And I've tried to do the same." He heaved a sigh. "Wufei's been through too much." He stopped there abruptly. Duo didn't push for more, choosing to let the silence reign and walking on.

"Duo," Zechs said. The braided man looked at him. "If everything turns out to be true... I'm sure that you have a better chance of succeeding than anyone else before you."

Duo stopped. "Thank you," he said simply, nodding.

They had stumbled across a small clearing in the forest just a few marks before sundown – according to Wufei – and had proceeded to set up a temporary camp. Trowa and Quatre had left just a few moments ago, to look for possible food so as to make their food supplies last longer, and Wufei and Zechs were studying the plant growth and trying to... well, gather information of some sort.

Things were still rather tense between the two, and Trowa seemed to be acting rather strangely towards Quatre, though the blond remained cheerfully oblivious. Duo wondered exactly what sort of company he had stumbled into, but he was sure in the knowledge that they were really good people. He had a rather... innate sixth sense in judging people's characters, and he doubted that any one of these men wanted to hurt or harm him in any way.

But that didn't mean that they wouldn't have any... issues concerning each other.

"Is it safe out here?" he called, in the direction of Wufei and Zechs. Wufei looked up, considering the question.

"There doesn't seem to be anything amiss," he said, half to himself. He glanced at Duo pointedly. "Any particular reason you would ask?"

Duo shrugged. "I thought maybe I could play a tune or two on my lute. See if-" he flexed his fingers, "I've gone at all rusty, or if the old girl has lost her voice."

"I don't think there would be anything wrong with that," Wufei decided. "Just keep the volume at a reasonable level and I'm sure we won't be bothered."

"Bothered?" Zechs asked. "What do you mean, bothered?"

Wufei applied himself pointedly to the task of taking notes on a particularly obscure plant.

"Wufei?"

"This seems to have healing qualities," the black-haired man announced. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Zechs sighed. "So damn stubborn," he muttered.

Duo turned his attention away from them. As amusing as they were, it had been too long since he had played a tune on his lute. He opened the case carefully, and removed the lute, running careful fingers over the polished wooden side.

He cradled it tenderly in his arms, much like one would a babe, or a lover, and began playing a simply scale, just to test how stiff his fingers had become and the tune of his lute.

The notes rang out, strong and pure, and clear against the still air. Immediately the spell of the music caught him, and held him, and the world slowly faded out, until it was simply him and the call of the tune.

He moved easily from the scale into a piece – one of the old ones, composed long before tunes could be written, and passed down from minstrel to minstrel. Maxwell the bard had particularly liked this piece, and that was one of the reasons Duo enjoyed playing it so much.

It was his one last tribute.

The notes rang out, and his lute was singing for him, calling out to him, bringing him far away from here and now and giving him a glimpse of true, untainted happiness.

But soon, the tune was over before it had truly begun, and as the last note faded into the breeze, Duo felt alone. He didn't want it to end so soon, so he plunged into another familiar tune. It was sweet and sad, and reminded him of a similar tune that his mother had hummed to him as a child. The minor notes struck the air with a raw painfulness, and Duo was almost glad when it ended.

He hesitated, and looked to see the reactions on Wufei's and Zechs' faces. The opinions of others had always mattered to him, even if few had realised that, and his music meant the most of all.

He needn't have worried. They were smiling at him, and Wufei's eyes were particularly bright.

"It has been too long," Wufei said solemnly. "I can't remember the last time I heard music being played quite so excellently." Zechs nodded his agreement.

Duo smiled broadly and started working on a few tricky trills. "Duo?" He glanced up, looking expectantly at Wufei.

"Would you... play a piece for me?" he asked. Duo widened his eyes, but nodded.

"Sure, if I know it. Do you know the name?"

Wufei placed his sheaf of notes down and walked towards where Duo was sitting. "May I... ?" he asked, hesitantly.

Duo held out his lute, feeling just a little concerned. The lute meant a great deal to him, and having others hold it was almost like an invasion of sorts. However, Wufei handled the lute with care, and started picking out a few notes, in succession. The tune was choppy, but soon enough Duo recognised the tune and cried out.

"'The Field of Red,' is it not?"

Wufei nodded and looked pleased, whilst handing Duo his lute back carefully. "Yes... I had forgotten the name – it has been so long. But that is correct, I remember now."

"Did you play once?" Duo asked, interested.

Wufei pursed his lips. "No, but I have studied the instrument in great detail. I had a... friend, and she enjoyed music very much. I was trying to make one of those-" he nodded towards the lute, "for her. Of course, that meant I had to know something about these first."

"You made one?"

Wufei shook his head. "I never had the chance to finish it... she passed on to the Spirit Realms before I could complete it and give it to her."

"Oh." Duo hesitated, but when he saw the anguished look on Wufei's face, started playing a soft, soothing tune. He placed just a touch of tenderness into the tune, and soon Wufei started relaxing.

"She liked that song very much," Wufei said. "It would be nice to hear it being sung again."

"Then hear it you shall!" Duo declared. He ran the tune quickly through his head, just to assure himself that he remembered it, then started playing.

He ran through the simple introduction for a few short moments, before he opened his mouth and started singing.

"I walked across yon field of gold,  
I saw my lover's smile,  
I passed across yon field of green,  
And held them for a while.

I wandered through yon field of blue,  
I saw my lover's eyes,  
I roamed across yon field of violet,  
Where we lay below the sky.

And now alone I sit and wait,  
I hear but naught a sound,  
I see around me only red,  
My lover nary to be found.

I sit upon yon field of red,  
Remember words once said,  
I hope my love will come to me,  
Whilst I lie on field of red."

The last word was sung, and the last note faded away. Duo blinked, feeling the music lose its hold over him, but leaving him with a sense of disorientation.

"That is the song, correct?"

Wufei turned away, hiding his reaction. "Yes," he said, hoarsely. "That is the song. Thank you." He walked briskly away, seeking the shelter of the trees.

Duo felt almost dazed. He didn't remember the song ever sounding quite so... passion-filled; not the last time he had played it. Now, the words had been ripped painfully from him, leaving him almost raw – him, and as it appeared, Wufei also. The words had been begging to be sung; the notes begging to be played, and now they were satisfied, but Duo... Duo felt drained.

"Would it be a problem if I took a break?" he asked. "Don't wanna shirk off my duty, or anything."

Zechs shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We'll just have you prepare breakfast, or something of the sort."

Duo laughed. "If you don't mind challenging your digestive system, I don't have a problem with that."

Zechs smiled. "I'm sure we can work out something. I'm going to go... " He looked pointedly at the patch of brush Wufei had wandered off into.

"Sure," Duo said, "Go on then. You can wake me up if you'd like me to be on watch duty, or something similar."

"Okay then," Zechs said, "Make sure you get some rest."

"I will," Duo answered, but whether or not Zechs had heard him was another thing. The man was one speed short of running into the brush he had just been looking at – he was probably going to search for Wufei.

With his departure, Duo was left alone at this meagre campsite. The wind blew through the trees, and Duo began placing his lute carefully into its case.

With his lute taken care of, he went to where their packs and bedrolls were lying, and pulled out the one he had grown to recognise as his own.

It was growing to be habit, this same exercise of setting out the bedroll and blankets and trying to form something resembling a bed – nay, not even that, just something remotely comfortable to sleep in.

Quatre had gladly set him up with a bedroll, blankets and other necessary travelling equipment. Odds said he would most likely need them – it seemed that he was just not fated to settle down and give up the freedom of travelling.

He had thought he might have wanted to, once, surrender his travels and settle down once and for all, but when it came to it, Duo wasn't sure if he could. Somehow, the feeling of being trapped came to mind, when he thought of never being able to see new things, new places, new people, of never being able to feel – or at least, follow – the call of the unknown.

But that was thinking for another day. Duo had somehow gotten the blankets and bedroll to look welcoming, and he unfastened his outer tunic and pulled on the looser one he liked to use whilst sleeping. He pulled off his boots and deftly fixed his loose hair into the more familiar braid.

Without further ado, he clambered into the blankets and let out a sigh, closing his eyes. The night was shaping up to be a cold one. It was more so the pity that he didn't have another body to keep him warm...

That was a topic that Duo didn't particularly like to think about. So he cut all the thoughts of being alone from his mind. Instead, his thoughts drifted to this insane trip he was currently on.

It had all happened so fast, and Duo still couldn't quite get a grasp on what he was doing. It was like his body was somehow functioning on reflexes alone, and he hadn't yet had time to contemplate what he should really be doing.

What he was doing? What he was doing was going on a crazy wild goose chase. He could scarcely even believe that the prince had ever lived, much less that he was still alive now. And even if he was, what could possibly make Duo think that he, of all people, could somehow break the curse? Many must have tried, and if they had failed, what was to say that Duo wouldn't follow in their cursed footsteps?

But yet, even as he knew all that, he couldn't stop the urge to go, to find this prince, and somehow set him free.

It wasn't so much of a conscious, coherent decision. Rather, it was something deep-seated and primal, something Duo didn't even quite understand.

But his instincts had gotten him through this far, and he could only hope that they would get him through the next eighteen years of his life as well, at the very least!

Still, Duo had absolutely no experience whatsoever with curses – or at least, not curses that he had known were curses. He though briefly of his brush with the so-called cursed village, of losing Bard Maxwell, and that only served to make him feel even more alone.

But if Duo felt alone now, surrounded by companions, and even friends, perhaps, than he could only imagine how alone the cursed prince must feel. Never to touch another living being, to feel the warmth of another's skin...

No one should have to live like that. And if Quatre and the others somehow believed that Duo was... special, in anyway... He would try his hardest not to let them down.

He had already let enough people down as it was.

* * *

Another day had passed, another night was looming ahead. 

Heero looked disgustedly at the golden clothes he was wearing. Every single stitch of thread had turned to the horrible substance, as if mocking him.

He would never be able to cast out that colour.

He had the power to turn to entire world into gold, the power to feed all the hungry and make rich all the poor.

...Kill millions with a touch, never having to worry about their retaliation...

It seemed like he had so much, when he knew he had nothing at all. And for a long, long time, he had closed his eyes at night and wished that he would wake up different.

However, he couldn't think of a single instance when someone grasping at empty hopes had ever been granted them simply because they wished it so. In that way, at least, he knew he wasn't the only one with unanswered hopes.

Not that that had ever served to ease away the bitterness.

He almost missed the times when he could wander around the castle, talk to the servants, and the servant's children – he had never been fond of the restrictions on talking to others with a position lower than him. He had always thought the servants were very nice people, and one or two children his age had even treated him as an equal – must to the chagrin of some of the more uptight royals.

But that time was over. No more bareback riding on his favourite black stallion, racing with the stable master's son. Never again to feel the wind against his skin, threading through his hair, letting go of every one of the restrictions placed on him, gripping the stallion's mane and being free.

He would never be free again, for even the illusion of it had been snatched from him.

His favourite black stallion was dead, the stable master's son along with it. Along with everyone he could remember from times long ago, when the option of being happy, of living, had still been possible for him.

And now he was nothing but an empty shell. He wondered when he would finally crack, and wondered who would be around to see it happen.

And he wondered when exactly he had stopped caring.

But there were precious few things he still felt – and hate was one of them.

TBC

**_THANK YOU_** to all the reviewers... I cannot say how much your responses mean to me... they really keep me writing... so thank you, so very, very much. bowbow And thank you Kimiki for the beta!

N/B: Heero will only turn things to gold if he touches them with the palm of his hands. It becomes more important later...

Also, (thanks to Kimiki who brought it up) regarding Heero's age, in case anyone else didn't pick up on it from Wufei's story in Chapter 2 (I could barely find it again myself... eep): '_it has been something like five hundred and twenty one years since it happened'_, 'it' being the start of Heero's curse. So, 521 + 18 (how old he was when it began), Heero's about 539 years old. ; Please don't ask how, or why, or anything like that... I know such a long period of time would usually signal great developments, etc. But take it that Hei's been sealed off... and the whole world just... happened to stay the same. gomen!


	5. tessera

**Chapter Four**

Quatre had roused Duo from sleep whilst the sky was still darkened. The blond had told him that he was to take the last watch, and that he was to wake them up in approximately two marks, or at the first traces of sun.

He had pointed out a medium height tree, ideal for climbing with low and nicely spaced branches, and mentioned to Duo that he could take watch there, so long as he was sure that he wouldn't fall asleep.

Duo peered between the leaves, trying to make out exactly what time it was. He was feeling rather anxious to get moving on, after all, today could hopefully be the last day of travelling for them. According to Wufei, they could possibly reach the alleged castle if the made good time and didn't dawdle.

And as much as he didn't want to believe it, Duo could feel a certain pull, a tug, that called for him to run, and to never stop running until he reached… somewhere. It was similar to the wanderlust he had felt as a child, and the call of the music he had always heard, but this was also different. This time, he didn't know what he was walking to, didn't have a clue of what he wanted.

Nevertheless, the dim light of the rising sun was a relief, and he started climbing deftly down the tree. He approached the row of bedrolls, and as he grew closer, a smile formed on his face. Sometime during his watch duty, Quatre had somehow moved towards Trowa in his sleep, and now they were one big jumble, sharing blankets and fingers and legs intertwined.

He decided to wake them up last, and headed for Zechs first. There was little to be seen of the man, just a waterfall of golden hair. Duo tapped lightly over where he assumed his arm would be. It took a while, but eventually Zechs' face appeared from below the covers, and he blinked.

"Morning," Duo said, smiling.

The blond mumbled a reply, but got up and started packing away his bedroll and blankets. He paused just as Duo was about to move on, and asked, "Where's Wufei?"

Duo's eyes moved to scan the man's sleeping area, and upon closer inspection found that there was nothing but a roll of blankets bundled up and placed beneath another blanket. Duo shrugged.

"He must have left. Maybe he had the sudden urge to go for a walk… I didn't notice anything, though." Duo laughed. "Maybe he heard the call of nature."

Zechs was looking worried. "What is he doing? Maybe he was sleepwalking. I better look for him!"

As it seemed, he didn't have to – Wufei appeared from among the brush, slightly rumpled and wet, but looking very pleased with himself.

"Look!" he exclaimed, holding something wrapped in a large leaf. He came closer and placed it on a large rock. "I went out for a walk and I came across a small river running through the forest."

"And you decided to go _swimming_?" Duo asked, quirking his eyebrow.

"No, I did _not_. I decided to try and get some proper food. However, if you feel that you can get better, then I have no problem with showing you the river and letting _you_ try to catch the fish." He unwrapped the leaf, and there, in two neat piles, were several moderately sized fish. Wufei looked at the rest of them, smugness etched into every inch of his face.

By now, Trowa and Quatre had awoken, and untangled themselves. Quatre was grinning at Wufei.

"Oh, excellent! We can have something different for a change!"

It hadn't seemed possible, but the smug look on Wufei's face increased.

"Shall we try to set up a fire and cook it here, or salt it and keep it for later?"

"Now, wouldn't you say?" Quatre chuckled. "I must say, a nice meal would do me a _lot_ of good. What better way to start off the day?"

Trowa nodded. "And if things go well, we could be reaching the-" he coughed, "_palace_ any time today."

Wufei scowled. "We _will_ be reaching the palace." It seemed that Wufei had been getting more and more positive with each passing day that all the old stories were real, that Duo really was "the one" the writings spoke of, and that they were definitely heading in the right direction.

"I will start to build the fire," Trowa said. "Quatre, if you wouldn't mind preparing the fish for cooking? Wufei, Duo, Zechs, you can start to pack away our things so we can leave straight after eating." And with that, he disappeared, presumably to find some dried branches and what not.

Duo had a very tempting idea. "Wufei, this river of yours… is it pretty close by?"

Wufei nodded, pointing in a direction behind him. "Just a few moments walk that way and you should come across it."

Duo grinned. "Great!" He started pulling off his outer tunic and long tight slacks, leaving him clad in his light undershirt and cotton shorts. This brought about some puzzled looks, and he hurried to explain himself. "I'm off to find that river. At this stage, I'm ready to die for a bath." He winced slightly. "Even if it _is_ with fish."

Quatre nodded. "That does seem like a good idea. Might as well make use of it while we have water at our disposal." He walked over to the packs and pulled out a few half empty water skins. "Before you have that dip, you might as well fill up out water." He smiled. "It seems like today may be rather easy going, and if Wufei is to be believed, maybe we'll be able to finally reach this alleged castle!"

Duo wrinkled his nose as he reached for the water skins. "You do realise that this is water that Wufei has been trampling around in?"

The man growled. "You are not being forced to drink it, Maxwell!"

Duo started his walk in the direction Wufei had pointed out, but on his way past the disgruntled man, he nimbly pulled off the hair tie Wufei used and ruffled his hair. "There, there, no need to get upset!" Wufei made as if to get up, but Duo jumped away, and started running. "Can't catch me, Wuffers!"

Zechs looked interestedly at Wufei, as the man sat back down, grumbling. "Wuffers? Really?"

The dark-haired man deemed it fit not to answer, and Zechs went on. "Quite an interesting name, wouldn't you say? He seems to think it suits you rather nicely."

That got him a glare that only fuelled his desire to continue. "It's a rather clever interpretation of your name now, you must admit?" He paused, staring amusedly at the disgruntled man before him, and the sharp point of the long blade that rested dangerously close to his neck.

"Really, Wufei? You haven't resorted to using that in a verbal spat since you were twelve."

Quatre, reading the signs of a possible brawl, stopped at his task and moved further away. Both men, now locked in an intense stare, ignored his action

"I am in no way intimidated, but it wouldn't exactly be fair if you were to use that against and unarmed man, would it now?" Wufei never faltered, but turned, placed the blade neatly on the ground, and rushed towards Zechs.

There were never too many words once their fights – if they could be called that – began. They had practised together since Wufei had been old enough to wield a blade, and Zechs had been positive he wouldn't hurt the younger boy. They knew every move the other possessed, could read each other like the back of their hand – but that was the whole challenge, the element of surprise was rarely there, but extremely effective when used well.

They didn't always fight with weapons; sometimes, like today, they were merely quick tussles, done for no reason at all but the actual act.

Wufei had rushed into the fight brashly, driven by unspent adrenaline, and Zechs reacted automatically. However, the familiar hit and block grew old, and suddenly, Zechs ducked under the blow, throwing Wufei off balance. This time, there was no doubt about the winner. The momentary waver was all Zechs needed, and soon he had wrestled Wufei to the ground and pinned him there.

Wufei sighed, and went slack. He wasn't going to give in without complaining, though. "It was never fair. You were always bigger than me."

Zechs grinned. "Always older than you too, don't forget." He eased off the smaller man, and started brushing his clothing off after reaching down to pull Wufei up.

Duo had returned from his quick dip in time to catch the last few moments of the fight. At its demise, he started grinning and applauding. "Wow," he said, "I didn't realise you could both fight that well!"

Zechs shrugged modestly at the comment.

Duo sighed. "I never got the chance to learn to fight. I saw the other guys being taught, but I was always busy, and there was never the time. Well," he added, "Not fight properly, anyhow, but I knew how to defend myself if any idiot decided to pick on me for fun. No real classy stuff."

"The result of such petty fights like those are hopefully of the embarrassment of such fools," Wufei said, "But in a proper battle, it is the actual fighting that matters, and not the winner or loser."

Zechs grinned. "You should hear what he says when he beats me."

Wufei shot him a dirty look, and he conceded. "But he's right. If done well, it's almost like a dance." He chuckled. "A deadly dance, but a dance no less. Reading your opponents moves, knowing the right moment to attack… The adrenalin rush is like nothing else."

He glanced up. "We better get a move on." They set to packing up all their belongings, and Trowa wandered back and began to start piling the sticks into something easy to burn. He paused, and went over to his pack. He retrieved a bundle of long, thin, sharp sticks and handed them to Quatre, who smiled as he received them.

In less than a few minutes, Trowa had gotten a fire burning, and Quatre had the fish salted, ready, and impaled on the sticks. He handed out each of the sticks to a person, holding on to his own, and soon they were all gathered around the small fire, heating the fish and taking bites out of them alternately.

It tasted remarkably good, just slightly charred where Duo had held it too close to the fire, but still very tasty. Quatre had done a good job with the flavouring, and it was gone altogether too quickly.

Then Trowa stamped out the fire, their belongings were picked up and hoisted on backs, and they were off again.

They had been walking for about three of four marks, or so Duo reckoned, when Wufei came to a sudden stop. He was rubbing his eyes and blinking furiously, and had a tight grip onto the branch of a nearby tree.

"'Fei?" Duo called.

"Duo?" he yelled back, much too loudly. "Trowa, Quatre, Zechs? Where are you? Are you here?"

Duo turned around, staring at the other three, who had startled expressions on their faces. Trowa was holding tightly onto Quatre's arm; the blond held on to the tree trunk closest to them. Zechs was blinking rapidly, thrusting about randomly in search of something solid to grasp on to.

Duo was at a loss. What was this strange behaviour? It was as if they had all suddenly lost their vision, or…

"Wufei?" Duo asked, "The ancient scripts or whatnot ever say anything about some sorta… vision imparity, to those who search for the castle?"

The man was still blinking, and Duo was starting to find things a little bit funny. He grinned, knowing that he probably couldn't be seen.

"Why are you… Yes, yes, there might have been something, though I cannot recall for sure."

"'And they wilt be surrounded with the dust and the mist shalt hide the treasure,' if I remember correctly," Zechs recited fluidly.

A scowl twisted on Wufei's face, but he was forced to agree.

"And you guys are all in some mist now." It was a statement; Duo was growing slightly more comfortable that he was something slightly special. That he had entered Hei and gotten this far was remarkable, and he was not one to shy from the truth.

"Yes, we are… and I presume, Duo, you aren't."

"Got that in one," Duo chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll save ya." There was a disgruntled noise from Wufei's direction, but Duo ignored him. "Now, if you have some sort of rope, that might help you. And then you can all just follow me!"

"Rope's in my bag." Quatre reached behind him, but quickly returned his hand to the tree trunk before he was half way there. "It's not just mist, it's sort of like a… disillusion of some sort. I feel quite unbalanced."

"Hurry!" Wufei snapped.

"Rush, rush, rush," Duo said, cheerily. He started humming a little tune to himself as he fumbled for the coil of rope. Soon he felt the rough length and drew it out of Quatre's bag. He took one end and placed it into Quatre's hand.

"Hold tight," he muttered, leaving a sufficient amount of space before giving Trowa a piece to hold. He repeated the process with Zechs, then went up to Wufei and gave him the bit close to the end. He grasped the end of the coil himself, chuckling all the while.

"Not funny," Wufei grumbled. "I am not amused."

"Yeah, well I am. Crazy, really. Bright daylight – well, sort of – and you're all stumbling about like…" he paused, thinking. "Headless chickens."

"Wufei, quit it," Quatre snapped. "This is not a very good feeling at all. If we could start moving _now."_

Duo raised his eyebrows. "Sure, Quat. Don't worry. Everyone okay?" he asked.

When that was confirmed, he started walking at a sedate pace. "It's pretty much just straight," he called, peering ahead. There was a straight spacing right between two rows of trees.

They continued walking for close to a mark, at this painfully slow pace. Duo had to continuously check behind, to make sure that no one was slamming headfirst into any wayward trees. Quatre was looking quite sick, and Wufei extremely annoyed.

Apparently this mist – that he could not see or feel at _all_ - had some sort of nauseating effect.

Duo was about to call it quits, and suggest they put things off another day, but then a amazing, completely unread image entered his vision. He paused abruptly, leading Wufei to slam into him, and thus creating a reverse domino effect.

"Maxwell!" Wufei groused. "What…" His voice trailed off. "I… can see again!"

"See that," Duo murmured, awed to great extent. He pointed straight ahead, eyes riveted, gazing upon a truly majestic building.

They were there. There was no doubt whatsoever that the estate in front of them could be anything less that a palace.

_The_ palace.

"It's real." Wufei looked dazed.

A sweep of adrenaline washed through him, and Duo dropped the rope and started running. "Hurry!" he called, eyes fixed on the grand building. Something was calling him, calling him…

There were no great walls surrounding the palace, something Duo found rather strange. He stopped when he had come close enough so the palace was all he could see, and looking around, came to the conclusion he was in some sort of garden.

"Amazing," Quatre whispered, from someplace to the right of him. The man sounded breathless. Duo didn't feel that way at all…

"Can we go in?"

Everyone looked towards Wufei, but the dark-haired man just narrowed his eyebrows and clamped his lips tightly shut.

"What else is there to do?"

Duo considered Trowa's simple words. "Sure," he said, shrugging. "That's a good point."

There was, of course, the slight problem as to where exactly the entrance was. The garden went on as far as they could see.

Duo started walking. Why not, he was rather good at it now. Wufei sighed, and followed him, albeit grudgingly. After moments of consideration, the other three did the same.

They passed the garden filled with roses and other assortments of plants and trees, and then in front of them was a vastly different yet similar sight.

This new garden might once have been the exact mirror to the one that lay before it. But something had obviously happened to it – for now, not one leaf, one shrub, was anything but gold.

The metallic colour covered ever inch of the grand garden – ever inch of grass, ever proud tree, ever delicate flower. The entire area was one big golden… thing. The fortune of a nation lay within this one space.

Duo thought he should be feeling greed, or excitement, of some thrill of sorts – after all, this was _gold_!

But all he could feel was a lingering sadness. This place was dead. Completely and utterly devoid of any of Mother Nature's natural beauty, of any meaning. It was cold, unwelcoming, barren.

Quatre ran a slender finger down the edge of a cold, golden rose. "Lord," he breathed, "It's all true, every single story. A garden of riches…"

"Dead."

Quatre bit his lip at Duo's statement, but nodded his head. "Dead."

A small boy wandered out, and stood deathly still when he caught sight of them.

"Hello," Quatre called out. "I hope you don't mind us being here. We… would like to request an audience with the prince. We've come a long way, and we would appreciate some temporary boarding."

He blinked, and shook his head rapidly. "Solo," he said quietly, "Dun be losin' yer mind now, listen ta me. Ya jus' gotta do yer job, then s'gonna be fine, fine. Gotta make Missy proud, yer hear me?"

He reached up to grip a handful of hair. "Jus' do the job," he whispered, "Jus' do the job, or he's gonna be reeaalll mad…"

Duo blinked. The young boy – he looked to be about seven, eight at the most – was apparently quite out of his mind. Seized with the urge to do something, he approached him carefully. "Hello?"

He boy's shaggy head snapped up. "Yer not all… ya know." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "All _gold_."

Duo shook his head. "Flesh and blood and bone, and my name's Duo Maxwell." He held out a hand, but the boy only looked at it, peering interestedly at it. At last he reached out and gave Duo a jab in the palm of his hand with a slim finger.

Duo chuckled kindly. "See? Real." The boy almost reminded him of that kid in his old village, Reaper. The poor kid had been abandoned to the wilderness, and the village had picked him up, and he had become a foster child to every single female. However, the boy had never quite recovered, and every once in a while he would go quite… insane was the best, though maybe not the nicest, way of putting it.

"Yer magic," the kid murmured, "and yer got real pretty hair." An arm reached out deftly and grasped Duo's braid.

"Thank you," Duo said, smiling. "But we must see the prince. Is there anyone about that you could take us to?"

The boy blinked. "Take… take yer." He looked beyond Duo, to the other three men standing there and noticed them as if for the first time.

Suddenly something in the boy changed. He stood straighter, held his shoulders up, and looked at Duo. "There's the Mister. He's real strange, been real strange, since the… the _person_ turned the pretty girl inta all the… Ya know, _gold_, but I kin take ya to him."

Refraining from asking the many, many questions he wanted to, Duo instead nodded. "Thank you. That would be great."

The boy started walking, and Duo followed, without much choice – the boy still hadn't released his braid. He managed to beckon to the others, who were still looking rather disorientated; before being forced to match the young boy's remarkably fast pace.

They were led down a curving path, before the boy paused in front of a brick wall. "There," he said. "Yer go thru' in there, and the Mister, _and all them pretty people_, are in there." His eyes darted about, mouse-like, and he twitched. "I gotta be gettin' away," he whispered. "Not meant ta be 'ere, ya know." He gave Duo's hair one last loving caress before sprinting away, repeating, "Not gold, not gold," delightedly to himself.

"Oh dear," Duo said suddenly. "What have I gotten myself into?"

"So," he said, turning to face the others. "Do we climb the wall?"

"Well, there's that," Quatre said, "Or there's using that door over there."

Duo grinned sheepishly. "Sure, that works too."

Duo pushed the door open cautiously, and walked through. He blinked, then his eyes widened, in hopes of absorbing as much as possible of what lay before them.

The entire courtyard was filled with frozen gold statues. They littered the ground, covering it, like some sort of… mockery of life. As far as Duo could tell, there wasn't a single on of them who had a happy expression on his or her face.

"It's real," Quatre said, through gritted teeth. "All those stories, they're real!" The guy looked ready to bolt, but for some odd reason, Duo was feeling strangely calm.

He walked up to the nearest statue, and brushed a reverent finger down the frozen cheek of the girl.

"She doesn't look happy at all, huh," he murmured, peering closer. "Amazing."

"Duo!" He jumped, and turned his attention to Quatre. "How can you be so calm? He turns people to gold! They're actually gold! It's…"

"Revolting. Horrifying. I know."

"Then how can you take this so easily? We should go, there's no telling what he can do."

"We've made it this far," Wufei argued, but there was a flash of nervousness in his eyes, and he was looking edgy.

"Look, the boy said that there would be a man here, who could help us. I have no idea what's wrong with this supposed prince, but I'm definitely going to try to find out. Now help me find someone who can actually help us!"

Quatre looked ready to argue, but he sighed. "Fine."

The group weaved delicately in and out of the golden statues, and Duo tried to head in the general direction of the palace.

As he walked, it became jarringly obvious that the majority of the statues were of youthful maidens with striking appearances, and for a second he pondered why that was.

"Almost there," he said, after a while.

"Who goes there?"

Duo jumped. An imposing man walked out, dusty blond hair covering his head, and blue eyes glinting fiercely. His hands were dirt-covered and dusty, and his face was red and flushed.

Duo was hyperaware that the others were staring at the man.

Zechs took a staggering step forward. "Father?" he asked.

"Oh," the man laughed shakily. "It you, you wretched boy. Come to gloat, have you? Come to laugh at our failure?"

"Laugh…?"

A half-crazed look entered the man's eyes. "Your sister, stupid boy!" He shook his head. "Cursed spawn of mine… So _close_!" he shrieked. "My glorious, grand plan. Made it so far!" He looked up through unseeing eyes. "Did you know how hard it was to get here? The time, the planning… Almost useless, almost didn't make it!" He wailed. "Oh, this place…" He waved about a hand. "It breathes, I tell you. Oh, it's singing its cursed song… Sing, sing, sing… Driving everyone away… everyone!" He shook his head hopelessly. "Even with her help… but, oh, the stupid bitch isn't half as powerful as she thinks she is…" He burst out into an unstoppable peal of laughter that was simply terrifying to listen to. "Was all going to be worth it… Going to be rich, she could have been _princess_! But stupid fool child fell in love… Stupid fool! And now… doomed, boy, doomed for all eternity…"

He stumbled, and Zechs sprung forward to try to help him. He shoved the blond aside, and somehow managed to make his way through an entrance to the palace, which was now right in front of them.

"Relena?" Zechs exclaimed. "Oh, god, no, Relena! "Where…?"

Wufei hurried around the statues close by, examining their faces. "Here," he stated, shakily.

They crowded around the statue he had paused by. Duo studied the rather pretty looking face, frozen in a dazed state, hand stretched out as if to touch something.

"Relena," Zechs mumbled, "No."

He set his jaw and straightened, after a few moments of silence. "I can't do anything now," he said.

"If… if I – we – somehow manage to… uh," Duo hesitated, "break the curse on the prince, the shouldn't they be returned to their original state?" He looked to Wufei for confirmation.

"Yes," he said, "I should think so. We'll get her back," he affirmed. "Get them all back." He scowled. "This prince… must not be a very honourable man, to do such a thing."

There was silence, before Duo said, "Well, we're here. Shall we…"

Zechs nodded firmly, looking towards the entrance to the great castle in front of them. "Go on."

"Maybe we should tell him about the 'pureness of heart' parts in the stories," Quatre said, nibbling on his lip as they walked towards the castle.

Trowa shook his head. "No. We don't know what he might do. And it's not like we know that much."

"But he should know!" Quatre protested, quietly. "We didn't tell him about the true love parts in the writings!"

"Might not be true. Might be a fanciful thought of the part of hopeful maidens."

Quatre scowled.

"If it is meant to happen, it will happen. Don't worry yourself, Quatre."

Quatre sighed. "I hope you're right."

They finally reached the castle, and a dreadful feeling swept over Quatre as he saw Duo pause.

"Who are you?" someone said, coldly.

_**TBC**_

A/N: Kimiki has saved this chapter with her beta. Honestly, I don't know what I was doing when I was writing it, and I guess skim reading to try to spot mistakes just won't cut it. I owe you, Kimiki! (You don't know how much I was wincing when fixing up the chapter from the beta... it was a painful experience.)

**As always, all the reviews are amazing. Thank you all. It means so much to me that you're reading (and hopefully enjoying) this fic.**

The site does something weird to ellipses. Please bear with it... I have no idea how to fix them, except for going through the entire chapter and fixing it manually... which isn't a very exciting thought. Forgive me!


	6. pente

_**Chapter Five**_

Heero looked icily at the beautiful boy in front of him. "Explain yourself!"

The boy – well, man, really – looked amazed. "Are you… are you the prince?"

"Your name," Heero repeated, growing steadily annoyed. "This was not meant to happen. There had been no one new to his palace grounds, not since that foolish girl and her father – and that had already been pushing things.

"Duo Maxwell," the man said, holding out a hand.

Heero raised an eyebrow at the foolishness of the other man. Did he not know whom he was talking to? But for some reason, instead of simply accepting the handshake – and therefore condemning the fool – he kept his hands at his side.

He had been wanting for something to change, no? Perhaps… Perhaps, at last, that time had come.

The man must have realised his mistake, as he snatched his hand back, laughing uneasily. "Guess that's not the best idea."

Heero noticed some of the man's companions hiding in the shadows, but couldn't bring himself to care about them.

This man… For a second, something swept over Heero, urging him, calling him, as he stared at the long-haired man before him. There was something rather spectacular about this particular person, and something was telling Heero to find out what. After all, he rationalised, he had nothing better to do with his time, and if the man turned out to be useless… Well, Heero certainly knew what to do then.

"Otto." The servant slid out from his hiding place. "Show his companions to the guest rooms." The man bowed low, and turned to beckon the other people out.

Duo opened his mouth to argue, but Heero held out a hand. "I wouldn't talk, if I were you," he said, smoothly. "It rather annoys me when people do. Just follow me."

Heero started walking towards his study room, and noted, with some degree of smugness, that the man was following him, scowling.

Perhaps things were finally going to change.

* * *

Duo was in some degree of shock. He felt numb all over, but there was a tiny little feeling inside him, something that tingled with glee. It felt vaguely similar to the feeling he had gotten the first time he had touched an instrument, played his first song.

He was walking rather slowly, compared to the quick pace the – prince? – was setting, and the man was growing steadily smaller as they continued down a long, golden passageway. Beautiful, ornate tapestries and paintings ordained the walls. He would have expected them to be old and faded, but instead they looked as if they had only been created yesterday.

Magic?

Duo suppressed a smile. He supposed he should have been feeling afraid, or angry – the man was proving to be _extremely_ rude – but instead, there was only something akin to excitement.

It was all happening very fast, but then again, what hadn't been, lately? Even the many months with the Minstrel Maxwell had seemed to fly by, the days in the forest had seemed to take less than a moment, and the trip here had been uneventful – peaceful, even.

"Hurry up."

The curt voice jerked him out of his thoughts and he looked up, flashing the prince a stunning smile.

Duo had the drifting thought that if only the man smiled, he could easily be the most beautiful person Duo had ever met or seen. Although he supposed there were some ladies who rather liked the scowling sort.

"I was simply admiring the wonderful paintings here," he said, and turned to the closest one, running a finger along the bottom frame.

He looked at the portrait. It must have been a family picture of some sort, and there was no doubting who it was supposed to be. A tall, regal man was standing to the right, with dark hair and dark eyes, but what would have been a stern face was softened by the slight smile on his face. However, it seemed to be aimed more at the beautiful woman by his side than at the artist doing the painting.

The lady to his left was slight, her head barely reaching his shoulders. She was beaming straight at him, no pretences about posing for the artist. She gave off the impression of being rather frail in body, and everything about her seemed almost ethereal. Long, semi-wavy light brown locks gathered around her, and her stunning blue eyes were bright.

It would have been impossible to mistake the enormity of their love.

And standing in front of them, with each of their hands on his shoulders, was a younger version of the prince. He was smiling, and practically radiated innocence. But even then, there was no mistaking that he was the prince, even though Duo had just seen him. The hair, the eyes, they were identical.

Duo wondered fleetingly where and when exactly the smile had disappeared.

"Hurry up!" the prince snapped, scowling darkly at Duo.

Duo shrugged, and followed him, giving one last glance at the painting, before looking forward. The prince almost faded into the surrounding walls, his golden cloak flowing behind him.

Soon they stopped in front of two doors, both ornately carved. The prince pushed them both open and walked in, leaving the two doors swinging straight back for Duo. He quickly dodged his way in, huffing slightly.

The prince unfastened the clasp around his neck, gathering up his cloak and letting it drop to the ground. "Sit down."

Duo did as he bade, all while examining the prince closely. He hadn't quite had the chance to do so properly before. Duo was struck by how very regal the prince was. The very embodiment of royalty, really.

He realised the prince was staring at him, so he caught his eyes and smiled slightly. The prince was quite for a very long time…

"What are you doing here?" It was a vague relief when the prince spoke.

Duo shrugged. "Looking for you, I guess."

He was rather put out when the prince chuckled darkly after a moment. "Please. You're one of those ridiculous people?"

Duo scowled. "Ridiculous?"

The prince looked almost… tired, now. "It's useless, then. Forget it." In a lower voice, he mumbled, "I don't know what I was thinking." He shook his head. "It won't work. I thought maybe… but no. You won't find what you're looking for here."

"But I have!" Duo exclaimed. "I know it's stupid, but Quatre – one of the men that came with me – said that apparently the forest let me in, or something, and, well…"

"Are you stupid?" the prince asked. "I'm letting you go, fool! Get out, take those companions of yours with you, and go far, far away."

"No," Duo stated, firmly. "Apparently it's very hard to find this place of yours, and now that I have, I'm not going."

"Not going? It's _my_ palace!"

Duo stared the prince in the eye, unwavering. He just couldn't let them down…

"Do you _not_ know who I am? What I can do?"

Duo kept his lips firmly pressed together, while a part of him wanted to laugh. It was ridiculous, this situation, what he was doing.

"I am cursed," the prince exclaimed. "I can turn you to gold!"

"But you won't," Duo said firmly. "I know you won't." Even the thought, the memory of those horrifying golden statues, that dead garden, didn't make that knowledge lessen. He should be scared really, but… he wasn't. It was rather bizarre. Then again, he could barely imagine the utter loneliness the prince must have felt in his life. Watching every single person he loved wither away and die…

That thought made a shiver course through him and he steeled his resolve. Even if the others had been wrong, and there was nothing special about Duo – and he'd be the first one to believe that – that didn't mean that him sticking around wouldn't do the prince some good. He could breath a little life into this stuffy, golden place.

"So," he said, giving the prince his most winning smile. "Why not give me the tour of the place?"

* * *

Heero really didn't understand this man one bit. People were scared of him. No one had come to seek him out in years – he wasn't counting that ridiculous girl (what good had come out of that?) – and he knew how much the people feared – even hated – their almost phantom ruler. He was barely more that a myth, even, just another story to scare the children into bed.

So what was this fool doing? He had just showed up, smiled, and demanded – politely, Heero supposed – a tour around _Heero_ palace. The man was invading _Heero's_ space, and he hadn't once stopped smiling – beaming! – at Heero. He had stopped talking _once_ to inquire about the state of his friends, before continuing his waltz around the palace.

What ever it was that had kept the man mute when Heero first came across him was gone, and now…

Still, something inside him thought it was rather nice to have someone talking again. Talking to him, with no silly ideals about capturing his non-existent heart.

But this was ridiculous. The man… he had to go. Now.

"Go."

The man – Duo – sent Heero a smile. "But this place is huge! We've barely gotten started!"

"Go. Now. Leave."

Duo shrugged. "No."

Heero wanted to gape – and to slap some sense into the fool.

"Think about it," Duo said, smirking. "You can't make me. The only way you're going to get me to leave is by physically throwing my out, and we both know you're not going to do that."

"Leave!"

"No."

Lord, he couldn't remember, but had human beings always been this aggravating, or was it just this particular male? Heero settled for glaring at the man.

But why? Why didn't he just grab the man and laugh as he watched him turn into yet another of those statues that littered his dead garden?

He couldn't. There was something about him, something that reminded Heero about the very first, unsuspecting person that he had cursed for eternity. It had been a young girl, he remembered slowly, full of life, always dancing around and laughing.

Lord… Something choked him up. It had been his sister! But he couldn't… why hadn't he remembered her? How could he have forgotten? His…

The morning of his eighteenth birthday, she had ran up to him and congratulated him, telling him all about the celebrations that had been planned, then she had jumped into his bed whilst he had still been half asleep, and… embraced him.

It all came rushing back, now, the horror he had felt as he watched helplessly, as his sister, his baby sister, had gasped, before glistening and slowly forming a golden statue.

Why hadn't he remembered her? How could he have forgotten? He squeezed his eyes shut, blinking rapidly. Slowly, he fell back against the wall.

"You okay?" He could barely comprehend what that man was saying. Did it matter? "Hey, there, come on!" The hand waving in front of his face made him want to teach the fool a lesson. He stood up rapidly, forcing the young man to the wall. He could claim that Heero wouldn't hurt him all he wanted, but when the truth hit…

He couldn't hear the longhaired male breathe louder and faster, and his eyes were growing steadily wider. Heero was inches apart from his body, and his hand was a few scant millimetres away from the other male's neck.

With a huge shudder Heero let his hand fall lifelessly to his side. "Just get out," he said tiredly. "Go… or stay, but just… get out of my sight. Now!" he all but shouted, watching, almost relieved, when the violet-eyed man took off.

He could feel the blood rushing around his head, pounding between his ears. He forced his breathing to resume some fairly normal pattern, and slumped, once again, against the wall.

Skies above, how could he have forgotten that sometimes, change was bad?

* * *

Duo didn't stop running until he had placed a good five turns between himself and the prince. He collapsed against a closed door, taking in deep breaths.

Damn, but this whole entire country was insane! For a mere second, he wished he was back at home, going about his menial everyday tasks, waiting for the young maid Heidi to come looking for him. They could take out their fathers' mares and go for a leisurely ride, and come back just in time for the smell of dinner to assault them. Sometimes Heidi would be invited to join them, and whenever she did so, Duo would have to deal with the cocky remarks and pointed jabs at him about his 'lady friend', whilst Heidi blushed and giggled.

Something akin to homesickness struck him, and almost made him forget about everything else. But that soon past, and the memory of wanting more, and dissatisfaction, and being misunderstood caught up. The memories of being laughed at, or being mocked for what he wanted to do more than anything… the cruel words, the stifling pressure of his family's expectations…

Duo sighed. Maybe it wasn't in human nature to be satisfied with one's lot in life. The grass is greener, and whatnot.

"Duo?" The pressure of the door opening behind him made him start, and he hurried to move.

"It is you!" Quatre smiled and sighed. "We were so worried about you!"

Duo shrugged, feeling drained, strangely confused and terribly out of his element. This wasn't him, right? He was a minstrel. He played his music. He lived for the day, hoping to find people willing to provide him a bed for the night, perhaps some coin, and repay them for their kindness with some beautiful – he hoped – music.

So what was he doing in the midst of this huge place, owned by a strange, sullen prince?

His mind felt foggy, and he couldn't quite comprehend the many, many thoughts swirling around his head. Opening his mouth to say something, he found that he could quite command his tongue to move, and the weight of his body became something he could no longer hold up.

With only a thick 'unn' to warn Quatre, he suddenly slumped forward, eyelids flickering shut, as he slid into darkness's loving embrace.

* * *

Duo laughed, as his lover ran into him, warm arms sliding around his waist. They both tumbled forward, rolling on the fresh, sweet green grass. The air smelt clean and pure, and Duo simply couldn't stop smiling, so filled with joy was he. The feeling of love embraced him from every which way, and he caught sight of loving blue eyes.

_Love you. Love you. Love you. Lover…_

The lips he tasted were sweet, familiar. Strong, warm arms held him. He could hear tinkling laughter in the background; it could have been from one mouth, or many. And always was the knowledge…

_Love.__ Love you._

And also…

_Mine. My love. _

Something called for him to answer, and he opened smiling lips to do so. Always, he wanted to reply. _Always.__ Always yours. Always mine. Love you. Love you…_

There was a painful throbbing in his head, and darkness rushed towards him, pulling him from the warm arms.

_No, no, my love. Always mine._

_Yes, always yours. Love you. Love you._

But to no avail. The darkness came, terrible and foreboding, swallowing him up…

Where was he now? It was as if he was looking through a thin veil of some sort, mist, perhaps. There was a group of girls – women, perhaps? It was hard to tell, as there was a strange sort of peace that surrounded them, making age insignificant, somehow. Some of them looked familiar, but thinking about it made his head hurt.

They were saying things, mouths moving furiously, and if he concentrated, he could make out fragments of words.

_"…too fast!"_

_"…your fault!"_

_"…pushed him!__ I told you..."_

_"…too dangerous!__ …risk..."_

_"Time... against us!"_

_"At the... edge!"_

_"…kill himself...?"_

Kill? Kill. Kill. Kill… The word rushed through his head, round and round, and oh, how it hurt, and there was such pain…

One of the girls, curly dark blond hair framing her pretty face, turned to look at him, and as if that was their cue, they all stared at him. "Oh…" one breathed, her stark black hair pulled back, eyes glistening in a way that should have reminded him of someone.

But the first girl was approaching him, and for some reason, her shining blue eyes struck a pang inside him.

When she spoke, her voice was sweet, lilting, almost as if she was singing a song. "Not time yet," she assured him, softly. "You'll be fine." She moved closer yet, and Duo realised that she was much shorter than him. She stood on her tiptoes, placing a feather-light kiss on his forehead.

And she started humming, a sweet, melodic song; then they were all humming, soothing him, urging him to close his eyes…

He'd be fine...

* * *

When Duo opened his eyes, he met dark black, barely millimetres away from him. He blinked fervently, feeling rested as he hadn't for days. He hadn't even realised how tired he had been.

Wufei pulled back abruptly, colouring slightly. "He's up," he called, turning and attempting to straighten – but in doing so he only managed to bump head first into Zechs' chest, as the blond man had walked up behind him.

The sight of Wufei slowly inching away from further human contact made Duo smile slightly. "How long was I sleeping for?"

"Close to a full day and night," Trowa said. "You had Quatre almost out of his mind with worry."

Duo scanned the room. "Where is he?"

"Trying to see if there's anyone in this insane place that'll help us. We ran out of fresh water and food this morning."

"At lest we're not in a dark, dingy dungeon of some sort," Zechs remarked. "Though I wouldn't be terribly surprised if that strange… butler of his started serving us bread and water."

"Zechs is only unnerved because that man was sending him positively ravenous looks," Trowa said, smirking.

Duo didn't know if it was Trowa's words, the horrified look on Zechs' face, or the pent up emotion inside him that made him burst out in unstoppable laughter. He laughed until his sides were hurting, and pretty soon, everyone in the room was chuckling along with him.

After that, there was a lighter mood to the place, one that Quatre was greeted with when he entered – or rather, was shoved in. The door was shut firmly – too firmly – behind him.

"Damn them," Quatre muttered, slamming the jug of water on the closest table. "Stupid idiots think I'm some sort of tavern _whore_, trying to mess with me-" He looked up, and coloured furiously. "Oh," he said, lamely, "Duo. You're up. How're you doing?"

"Fine – but I think we'd all rather like to know how you've been doing." He grinned lecherously.

"After all that trouble I went through to get you your water, too." Quatre was rather amusing when he was in a foul mood. He heaved a sigh. "Well, glad to see you're better." He went to retrieve a glass, tipping clear water into it, and offered it to Duo.

Duo accepted it, pausing to pour the water down his throat.

"Really?" Wufei smirked. "Tavern whore?"

Quatre glowered at him, making him raise his hands mockingly in the air – but that didn't stop him from taking a step backward.

"Stupid guard," he sighed. "I managed to find a young servant girl, and just as I managed to get her to trust me enough to begin to talk to me, he bumbles in half drunk on wine and ale and starts…" The petite blond shuddered. "The girl took off straight away, but he managed to corner me and started… groping me." He blanched, placing a hand on his chest.

"You okay?"

Quatre glanced up at Trowa at the lowly voiced words. He nodded. "Yeah. I just… don't like this place. Everywhere I look, there's the horrible feeling of… emptiness. It's so cold, and…"

"Dead."

Quatre looked at Wufei, who was sighing, before murmuring his agreement. The blond blinked, before catching Duo's eyes. "Duo!"

Duo jumped, looking confused. "Uh… yeah?"

"How could you not have told us you were feeling so exhausted?"

"I… I wasn't."

Quatre exhaled loudly, exaggeratingly. "Yes, you were," he said slowly. He gave Duo a stare designed to inflict guilt. "You fainted from fatigue."

"You should have told us we were moving too fast. You really didn't have to push yourself."

Wufei's slow words only seemed to spur Quatre on. "Nothing would be worth this risk!"

_…too… fast?__ …push? …risk?_

Where had he heard those words before?

And… there… there was a girl, many girls… women?

He blinked firmly, trying desperately to clear his head, before heaving himself out of the bed. "I'll be fine," he said, reassuringly, while trying to smile comfortingly at them, "I just need a breath of fresh air, that's all."

Quatre looked dubious, but Trowa placed a hand on his arm and nodded at Duo. "Go," he said simply.

That was all Duo needed. He saw his outer tunic slung neatly over the foot of the bed and grabbed it, moving quickly towards the door. Once he was out, he closed the door behind him, fingers slipping over the slick, shining gold doorknob. He leant against it for support, eyes surveying the surrounding corridors.

It was amazing how different a place could look with a clear and rested mind. Now, not stunned by shock or drained in sudden fatigue, he could understand why this whole place would be called cold, or dead. Cold, definitely, and if he shut his eyes he could almost imagine there were dead spirits whispering around him.

Who knew what sort of hell had been experienced in this place?

Footsteps sounded from the turning to his right; he pressed himself to the door, trying to make himself as small as possible and keeping tight rein on his breathing.

He needn't have worried. The prince didn't even glance his way, merely moving down the long, empty hallway.

Before his mind could even comprehend it, his feet were silently moving along, following the prince.

It was time for Duo Maxwell to be sneaky.

* * *

Heero knew that fool of a musician was following. How could he not, with the male making such loud, buffoonish steps?

Well… That wasn't exactly true, he had to admit, though grudgingly. If they hadn't been walking along such a silent hallway, and if the place took more than a whisper to produce echoes, he probably wouldn't have heard the other man at all.

But if the fool wanted to see for himself how… wretched Heero was, then who was he to care? It was just another person to hate him, to fear him.

And yet, something said, that maybe, maybe he was different; this strange, happy, smiling man. It had been so long since he had ever seen anyone as happy as that.

No… not since Marie.

A surge of bitterness swept through him and he forgot about the fool momentarily. Kind, sweet Marie, one of the few who had honestly loved him, honestly cared.

Not that he blamed those who didn't. Hells above, had rolls been reversed, he probably wouldn't have felt much fondness for himself either.

After all, what was there about him that could be loved?

He pressed his lips tightly together, increasing his speed, until he was moving just a touch slower than a run. The steady thumping behind him almost made him smile. Seemed like the fool was persistent, at least.

Heero slowed to a stop, facing the great, glistening golden doors that marked the entrance to the palace library. It had used to be his favourite place in the world – just the thrill of being in this ancient place, the dizzying idea of all the centuries of knowledge this place contained, the sight and slightly musty scent of works published eons ago…

He remembered coming here as a child, picking up a book, any book, and simply running his hands over the words he couldn't quite understand yet.

Of course, he thought with some anger, he couldn't exactly do that now.

With a barely audible sigh, he pushed open the heavy doors, wandered in, and waited for the fool to announce himself.

* * *

Duo padded silently along, trying his best not to make a sound – and sure that he was succeeding rather well.

The prince had entered a large room just moments ago, through two imposing doors. They stayed open and Duo slid up to them, peeping inside.

The dark-haired male was staring at a bookshelf which was heavily laden with books that looked simply ancient. There were thick books and thin ones, and rolls of parchment were gathered in a neat filing system.

No doubt that this was the palace library.

From the little of him that Duo could see, the minstrel gathered that the prince was feeling more than slightly frustrated. Every moment or so, he would reach out a hand to pull out a book, only to snatch it back and clench it into a fist.

Duo had, of course, realised that the… curse meant that the prince could touch nothing with his hands – palms? – lest it turn to gold. People, plans, living and inanimate objects… nothing was spared. So, of course, he couldn't touch any one of these magnificent books, just calling to be read and worshiped.

And suddenly, horror struck Duo, as he began to realise just how horrible a life the prince must have lead. Though he couldn't remember the exact time-span the man had been alive for, from what Wufei had told him... It must have been centuries, at the least. It was like before, the thought of this man's life had been a dull sort of knowledge, and now a light switch had been flicked on and Duo could at last see.

Briefly, Duo wondered why the man was… still around. Oh, it was a rather terrible thought, what with everything he had been told as a child about taking one's life, but still… Had this happened to him, Duo doubted he could have last a year.

He bit his lip, staring at the form of the solemn, almost angry man. Emotion didn't show very well on him.

Duo wasn't quite sure what to do now. The prince was practically calling for sympathy, for… love?

He seemed so alone.

Had the prince been a lady, a girl, Duo would have been utterly charming, sweeping her off her feet. He could do that.

Had the person been elderly, Duo would have polite, pleasant, warm, gaining their trust in no time. He could do that, too.

Duo had always been rather excellent at reading people, therefore knowing how to act around them and eventually getting them to like him.

But the prince was a complete question mark, and Duo felt very uncomfortable, very awkward, and utterly useless. He turned away slowly.

"Don't do that."

The curt voice hit him hard, and Duo jumped. "Wh… what?" His voice sounded weak even to his own ears.

"You pity me. Don't."

The prince had turned around, and was now staring at Duo, face completely expressionless. The deadened expression sent a shiver up his spine.

"How do you know what I feel? Or don't feel?"

There was a sharp laugh, and the man turned away in a way that made Duo feel as insignificant as an insect. "Do I appear stupid to you? Your emotions are completely readable." He half-turned, gesturing uninterestedly with his arm. "You're feelings are plastered upon your face."

There was definitely something about this man that aggravated Duo. As it was, he had the very strong urge to walk up to the man and punch him in the jaw.

That was a rather far cry to his earlier pity for the man. And damnit, that meant that the prince had been right. Duo _had_ been pitying him.

"See? You do pity me. And you're scared, too." The prince scoffed. "You should just go. Please remember that this does happen to be my palace, and you're currently invading private property. Besides," he added, a tad quieter, "there's no place for you here." That time he sounded almost sad, if cold hearted bastards _could_ sound scared, making Duo feel completely confused once again.

Finally, after a period of silence, Duo fixed a smile on his face. "So," he said, his voice sounding bare and vulnerable. "Do… you need some help?"

The prince narrowed his eyes. "Not from you."

Duo bit the inside of his mouth to keep from saying something… awful at the man.

"Fine," he said, "We'll try something else. What's your name?"

There was a laugh that practically shouted, 'Stupid common fool, why on earth would I tell you?'

Duo sighed. "You do have a name, right?"

"Heero," escaped the prince's lips, after which the man clamped them shut, looking rather furious at that release of information.

Duo beamed. "Heero, huh. So…" he moved into the room and pulled out a chair that was neatly tucked in under the desk closest to Heero.

Heero. The prince had a name, and Duo knew it; and for the strangest reason, that made him want to smile.

"What's your favourite colour?"

Heero turned to him, raising a eyebrow. Duo shrugged. "Nothing wrong with wanting to know that."

"What's yours?" The way he said it, it was almost an unstated challenge of some sort.

"Black," Duo said firmly. It had been, ever since he had stared out into the night sky as a young child and admired the infinite space that lay out there. Black velvet, unending and more mysterious than the man in front of him.

The prince was back to staring at the books on the shelf.

"You have to tell me yours, now," Duo said.

There was a pause, and finally… "Violet," Heero said. There was another great pause, before at last he continued, "That wasn't a compliment."

Duo blinked.

"Your eyes, baka, your eyes."

Oh… Duo stared down at the shiny marble surface of the table he sat at, and as he concentrated, he could almost see his face staring back at him… he had violet eyes.

For some reason, that thought had never really struck him before.

"Oh," he said at last.

"You should go," Heero said, almost reluctantly.

"Do you want to be alone now?"

"No. Go away from the castle. Get away from here. Just go. Get out. Get out of my palace, and get out of Hei."

The callous words left Duo both outraged and at a lost for what to do. "How… how do you know I'm not from Hei?"

Heero sighed, like the entire conversation was a waste of his time. "Your accent," he said. "The difference is quite noticeable if one concentrates."

"Oh." That hadn't quite occurred to him before either.

"You'll go anyway," Heero was saying, almost to himself.

"Wh… what?"

Heero scowled. "You'll go anyway," he enunciated. "So why not just do us both a favour and just haul your annoying self out of here."

"I'm really so annoying?" Duo pushed his chair back, eyes sparking. The screeching sound of the chair legs scratching against the wooden polished floor echoed through the room, ringing dully in his ears. Duo walked calmly to where the prince was standing. Adrenaline had appeared from somewhere and was now rushing through his body.

"All right, then," he said, staring the prince straight in the eye. Going strictly on a hunch, he grabbed the prince's arm. When nothing happened and he realised that he was still breathing rather loudly, he sighed, a small exhalation of air that was barely noticeable.

The prince had flinched violently at the contact, and was now deathly still and staring at the place where Duo's hand was still gripping firmly onto his arm.

"If I'm so annoying," Duo said, "Then go ahead." He let go of Heero's arm and the man jerked it back, almost as if he was afraid.

Duo moved a step closer towards Heero and spread his arms out challengingly. "Go on," he whispered. There was no need for any other words.

He could hear the other man's heavy breathing; see the slight flush on his cheeks and his slightly dilated pupils, the almost invisible tremor running through Heero's arm. A twisted thrill ran through him when he realised that he had managed to make the cold man show this much emotion.

A fist came up to slam against the unknowing bookshelf, making it tremble. The sharp sound stung Duo, making him jerk in surprise.

"Go!" Heero shouted, eyes flashing.

Duo went – dodging blindly around the table, making a sharp turn out of the room, before drawing to a sudden halt and collapsing against the wall.

Why did all their meetings seem to end with him running away?

...And what the hell had he been thinking?

**_TBC_**

A/N: Ahh... always, always, my heartfelt thanks to Kimiki. I owe you like... forever. I have the deepest respect for anyone who can wade through the first draft of my work (when even I wince at the thought...) and face my unending commas and _fragments_!

And then thank you to anyone who's stuck with me up to this point, and who is reading and maybe even enjoying (I live in hope) this fic... I love you reviewers... utterly and completely. _**Thank you**_!


	7. hexi

**_Chapter Six_**

Duo was out of bed and dressed remarkably quickly. He had been given a room of his own – and a very nice room it was, too. An ornate and sinfully comfortable bed lay in the middle of it, large enough to fit three of him. It had heavy bedposts on each of the four corners and lush, deep red velvet material hanging on all sides. Plush covers – they had to be filled with feathers of some sort! – that were simply wonderful to burrow in lay heavily on top of it.

Of course, the rest of the room was nice too, but the bed – it was the sort that simply called, sang out, the sort that was made just for lovers.

Duo flushed slightly, wondering if anyone had actually used it as such...

He sighed, fluffed out the covers over the bed and patted them down neatly. He had entertained the thought that maybe the room had been gifted to him as an apology of sorts from the sullen prince, but that had been firmly shoved away when he remembered the look that had flashed in the man's eyes.

The servant that had led him to the room hadn't looked terribly pleased with Duo, either, leading the poor minstrel to wonder if perhaps he had done something wrong. Besides the jarringly obvious, of course.

He had been hiding in his room for exactly four days now. Quatre had wandered in once or twice, letting him know that they were all quite fine, and that much of the shock had worn off now. Apparently Wufei was practically giddy with delight, and was busy studying everything he could get his hands on. Zechs was acting much the same, albeit with a little less enthusiasm, and Quatre and Trowa were both doing quite fine.

Duo sighed. They were all enjoying the life of luxury just fine – it was just poor, little ol' him.

He wondered why exactly the prince hadn't kicked them all out. It certainly wouldn't have come as a surprise to Duo. In fact, he had spent much of his four days of self imposed exile waiting for that grouchy looking servant to sweep into his room and demand for him to get out at once. Or even the prince, in fact, if he could spare the precious time he normally used to brood and generally hate the world and all living things.

The bitterness that came along with that spiteful thought shocked Duo for a bit. Since when had he started to become so malicious? It had never once been a factor in his personality, and he would have thought that with all his previous pity for the prince he would be the last person Duo's anger would be directed at.

But no, he reminded himself, _Heero_ didn't want pity. Nor friendship, as it so seemed.

Duo eyed the window. He obviously wasn't wanted – why, four days and he had seen no living thing but the hand that pushed open the door to deliver his meals.

It was, after all, common manners to apologise when one yelled at someone, was it not?

There was the niggling thought that perhaps _Duo_ had been wrong also, and that _Duo_ should really be the one to apologise, because he had also been out of hand and he _was_ the one taking advantage of Heero's hospitality – however grudging that hospitality was.

Duo scowled. Him and his damned conscience.

He eyed the window. It was truly a lovely day, and the days of seclusion and darkness, stuck in his room, hadn't been for him at all.

He swung his lute determinedly onto his back. He'd see if he could find himself a nice, _living_ garden to sit in, and play, and watch and listen to the birds singing their songs.

Now, that was a nice thought.

* * *

Duo sighed forlornly. Perhaps it would have been a better idea to sit in his room. He had somehow gotten lost, and although he could sometimes have sworn that he had heard giggles and chuckles around him, there was no one to be found.

"Having a hard time?" someone asked dryly.

Duo looked up and managed to spy the still form of the prince within the shadows. This whole place was so _dark_…

"Oh, I'm fine," Duo bit out. "Simply lovely." On impulse, he added, "Please tell those charming servants of yours that I'm glad they find me so amusing. So, what about you? It must be _so_ much fun lurking about in the shadows."

There was a dark chuckle. "You should try it sometime." He stepped out of the shadows and seemed to find something interesting to study right behind Duo.

Duo, in turn, tried in vain to figure out if he'd been in this particular hallway before. Painting, portrait, painting, painting… after time, they had all grown to look identical. He blinked and sighed in frustration.

A sound alerted him to the fact that the prince was no longer under the pretence of looking anywhere but at Duo – and he was laughing!

It was anything but a nice laugh, though. Somewhat like the one Zechs' father had produced, but less insane, and much more bitter.

"Funny, am I?" Heero stopped abruptly, and was now simply just staring at Duo coldly, assessing him like some mere animal. This made Duo uncomfortable, which then made him annoyed and angry.

"Stop it!"

The prince smirked.

Duo was one inch of sanity away from ripping his hair out and strangling the man with it.

* * *

He had laughed.

The thought struck Heero even as he continued staring – rather rudely – at the man before him.

It hadn't been a happy laugh – he doubted he was even able to physically produce one of those – but still… he hadn't laughed at all since… Since Marie's death, he remembered. He could think about it now without wincing. Was that how heartless he had become?

He narrowed his eyes at the braided bard standing before him. His mouth was moving, but Heero's brain was really processing the words. Briefly he entertained the thought of simply reaching out and grabbing hold of the man, then watching as the turned lifeless, mouth open like all the rest of the fools.

A painful jolt ran through him. It was gone rather swiftly, but afterwards came the waves of guilt. He felt bad about even thinking it, about wanting to do that to someone who hadn't really done anything to him but try to be nice.

But all of them… none of them had ever done anything to Heero. Nothing, at least, that meant they deserved what they got.

But they had asked for it, he thought fiercely. They had all wanted nothing but the wealth, the fame he could gift them with. Not one of them had even entertained the thought of getting to know him – and they had all thought they could get him to love them.

Fools. All fools.

The man – Duo, something told him, it was Duo – had now stopped talking, and was watching Heero warily. He had no reason to be worried, the idiot. There was no way he could, he would, turn the man. It would be too much like turning Marie again.

Did that thought mean he still cared? He couldn't remember caring about much for a very, very long time.

The man's expression changed, he looked calmer, and for a moment Heero worried that he had somehow said his thoughts out loud. But a quick recount assured him that he hadn't.

It was almost ironic, that even after the many young ladies he had turned, not one of them had ever aroused anything but hatred within him. But after so long, along came this… this man, but with all the innocence of a boy – and suddenly he reminded Heero of Marie, although they were nothing alike.

Not in appearance, at least – only in the eyes. If Heero squinted – though he wasn't about too any moment soon – he could imagine that the curious shade of Duo's eyes were, in fact, the slightly bluer, slightly lighter violet version that had been Marie's.

There had been silence for quite a while now, Heero realised. He wondered if the man realised he was fiddling with his braid. It seemed like the sort of thing that would ordinarily be annoying Heero, but for some reason he was finding it sickly endearing. He scowled with irritation at himself, but levelled it in the bard's direction.

Duo was fidgeting. "Well?" he asked expectantly.

Heero rose an eyebrow.

"Aren't you going to offer to take me where I want to go?"

"Why would I do that? You're already overstepping your bounds simply by staying, as it is."

Even as he said that, Heero was thinking that maybe, he didn't want the long-haired male to go after all. He hadn't known, but sometimes, late at night, Heero had made his way to Duo's bedroom and simply stood quietly at the doorway after pushing it open and looked at the man. Looked at him as his chest rose peacefully up and down, listened to his calm breathing.

He had deliberately placed the minstrel's room close by to his – not too close, so that the man wouldn't be able to find it – but Heero knew a few underground passageways that could be found under specific paintings. Duo's room was right next to one that led straight to the outside of his own room.

Once, just once, he had been caught in fitful sleep, startling Heero. He hadn't thought that the man had had anything but a peaceful life, though after a moment of watching him in the throws of a nightmare, that had become obvious. Duo had cried out a name in his sleep – Bard Maxwell – and for a moment Heero had thought that that was a name of a past lover. But then he had remembered that Duo had introduced himself as Duo _Maxwell_, so perhaps he had been a guardian that Duo had looked up to.

It had never occurred to Heero that perhaps he should simply ask Duo, instead of coming to his own conclusions.

Duo scowled, looked annoyed, and sighed. Really, the emotions just played upon his face.

"Uhm…" he hesitated, something that Heero found quite interesting. "Look… I'm sorry."

That was… strange. Did he somehow think that an apology would make Heero fall for him? But… he wasn't here because of that, was he? Why… why was he here? Heero was positive he had asked that question, but he couldn't quite recall the answer…

"Oh, forget it," Duo huffed, "Obviously you're not in a very good mood… I'll just find my own way!"

"Where… where do you want to go?" He had to physically restrain himself from biting his lip – something he hadn't done since he'd been a young boy getting a good scolding.

That thought – of his youth, of his family – brought waves of bitterness, so much so that a heavy weight seemed to have been placed upon him, threatening to make his legs buckle – the horror!

He didn't like what this man was making him feel. He hadn't doubted himself until _he_ had come along, had barely spoken at all, in fact.

This couldn't be good. He couldn't let himself grow too comfortable, too… happy?

That was ridiculous. He wasn't happy.

He couldn't be happy. He didn't deserve to be.

"Are you okay?" _He_ was coming closer, making Heero feel vaguely crowded in, vaguely sick. He couldn't think, his head felt numb…

Help me, he wanted to scream, as he looked blurrily at a figure in front of him.

He pressed himself desperately against the wall, trying to get away…

"Hey… hey… come on, get up!" He could hear mild hysteria clouding that voice… who's voice…?

No voice, as he sank to the ground and his eyes closed.

* * *

"Oh, thank goodness you're awake!"

Why was the ridiculous boy hovering over him so?

As that thought passed, and sanity returned to him, he snapped, "Move back!"

The other male jumped. "Hey, no need to get snappish now!"

Heero wanted to push him away, only barely restraining himself from doing so. "Baka, get back!" He scowled as his instructions were followed.

Duo was sighing. "Damn, just as I was beginning to think you weren't half bad…"

"Idiot," Heero said, as he pushed himself up, trying to avoid the more obvious question as to how he got on the floor in the first place. There was painful, awkward silence.

"Look, are you going to show me to where I wanna be or not?" These halls made one's voice echo, Heero mused. Funny how he hadn't noticed that before.

"Who said I was going to do that?"

"You did!" Duo exclaimed. If he got just a bit more aggravated, Heero was positive his face would turn quite red.

"All right." Heero wondered why he had said that, but stopped caring when he saw the flabbergasted look on the man's face.

* * *

The prince had taken Duo to a garden, starting to walk before the phrase had barely left his mouth. Duo had wanted to mention that a _living_ garden was a rather important factor, but had decided against it when a strange, cold expression had come upon Heero's face.

Duo had almost started to believe that the prince could be human, especially when the man had somehow… blacked out. However, Heero was certainly trying to put that thought out of Duo's head.

That man was so confusing it made _Duo_ want to black out. And he was completely unreadable!

"We're here," Heero said curtly, turning to go back inside. Duo had barely even noticed they had left the palace…

He bit his lip, watching the figure grow smaller and smaller… "Stay!" he burst out.

The man froze.

"Uh… please?"

He was turning around, which could either prove to be a good thing, or a bad thing. Suddenly Duo became ultra-aware that his life could lie in that man's hands, should he deem it so.

Heero was staring very suspiciously at Duo. "I… I mean it," he muttered, awkwardly.

"Why?"

"I… it might be nice." Just what had he gotten himself into?

"Fine." Duo let go a breath, and smiled.

The prince started walking back slowly, stopping when there was a comfortable distance between them. Duo figured that were no personal spaces invaded, his life could be quite safe.

Or so he hoped.

"So," Duo started, trying to make friendly, casual conversation. About the weather, perhaps.

"What are you doing?" Heero demanded curtly.

"Excuse me?"

"What. Are. You. Doing?"

This guy was impossible, Duo decided. "Well, I'm making conversation." He really, really, really wanted to stick his tongue out at the man…

Heero was fixing him with a stony look. "What are you doing here? Why haven't you gone yet?"

"Do you want me to?" Duo asked. Was it his imagination, or was this conversation getting very old?

There was silence for a little while, then a not very convincing, but very explosive, "Yes!" sounded. Heero narrowed his eyes. "Of course I do, you fool."

Duo sighed, and decided upon ignoring him, choosing instead to place his lute down carefully. He flopped backwards and lay on the sweet grass. Two cold eyes hovered over him.

"What are you doing?"

Duo raised his eyebrows. "Same question again? Well, making conversation didn't work too well, so now I'm taking a leisurely rest."

The prince's face disappeared, and Duo could see him take a seat – stiffly – on one of the benches close by.

He pulled himself up into a sitting position, crossing his legs, and rested an elbow on a knee, and his chin on his hand. He smiled at the prince. "Nice day, hmm?"

Heero grunted.

"Take that as a yes. So tell me," nice innocent question, he reminded himself, "Do you get this sort of weather here often?" Nice, innocent questions were usually stupid, he decided.

It didn't matter, as he doubted Heero had heard his question at all. Instead, the man was staring at Duo, like he didn't quite understand something.

"Why do you keep staying here?"

Duo resisted the urge to bang his head on the grass repeatedly. "Why wouldn't I?" he shot back. Because, when he thought about it, he didn't really know, just that something said he had to, some deep, guttural instinct.

The prince scowled. "Don't you have some lover back at home waiting for you?"

Like it or not, that question hurt. "No, in fact, I don't." He shrugged. "Don't really have anyone, actually."

Heero's face had gone still; it was completely blank.

"I guess we're the same that way, huh," Duo whispered, and he didn't know if he had been heard.

When Heero said nothing, Duo sighed.

* * *

Amazingly enough, they had spent much of the day there. Sitting down, standing up, walking around… The birds had sung and the sun had shone. Duo had taken out his lute at some point and played a variety of happy tunes – the sort that were both terribly annoying and yet irresistible not to sing along to.

Oh, the prince hadn't sung along, but Duo was sure that at one point, there had been the slightest smile on his face.

Of course, that could have simply been a play of the sunlight on his face – but Duo could hope, could he not?

The prince had left just moments ago – standing up and leaving, though Duo had been sure he was going to say something. Part of Duo had wished that the man had smiled and thanked him for a lovely afternoon, but then again, that would probably have given the bard a heart attack…

As he worked on the fingerings of a particularly tricky tune, his fingers began to burn slightly. How long had he been playing for, anyway?

He ignored the slight pain – something he had trained himself to be very good at doing – and started thinking about this whole trip – something he had tried to avoid doing for a very long time.

By this stage, Duo was feeling terribly confused. This had seemed like a good idea, at one point in time – he knew it had – but now, it had all happened so quickly, and he wasn't sure that his mind had quite caught up with what his body had been doing.

He looked around, fingers still plucking a tune. This wasn't exactly a very pretty garden, as such. It seemed rather plain, in fact, with only a bare amount of trees and hardly any flowers. However, it was impeccably kept, not a single blade of grass out of place.

For some reason, that terribly annoyed Duo.

His fingers stumbled, a slight pain arcing through them, causing the tune to go horribly wrong. He sighed, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the ruined song or the damned palace and the prince that lay within it.

Leaving wasn't an option now. He didn't know what the heck made him come here, couldn't quite remember why it had seemed like such a great idea – but there was no way he was going now.

Because, like it or not, Heero needed someone. And damn it to hell, Duo was going to be that person.

* * *

Duo had somehow managed to stumble his way back to the room. His hands had started cramping up, his fingers were burning painfully and his back ached from the bent position he had been sitting in. He had skipped a bath in favour of slipping straight into bed. He threw his boots off, removed his outer clothing, and slipped into bed. He had been half asleep before his head had touched the soft pillow.

He woke up, dazed and blinking, as he had before. For a moment, as he opened his eyes, he wondered where he was. The pillows were too soft, the bed covers to silky, the blankets had to be filled with feathers – they couldn't afford these things, could they?

And then – oh, yes. Realization.

Duo sighed, eyes half open. What was he doing…?

The sudden, painful image of the prince standing within the shadows hit him, and he shut his eyes. Now that he thought about it, he wasn't so sure why the man had managed to aggravate him so. After all, Duo had dealt with a number of annoying people in his lifetime – at least this one had a feasible reason. Who wouldn't be a little bit angry after all the prince had been through?

Slowly, he brought up the memory of that flicker of a smile – he still did not know if it had truly been one – and smiled himself. It was amazing how different the prince could seem to be when Duo wasn't directly around him. He liked Heero a lot more when he wasn't around him.

He remembered the grip he had held on the man, the feel of toned muscle and flesh beneath his hand.

He had felt so… real.

At that, Duo wanted to laugh – after all, the man _was_ real. But-

He gripped onto a fist-full of his soft blankets, ran a hand through his hair, feeling the texture of individual strands forming a cohesive whole, thoughts of past trivialities sifting through his mind. Remembered plaiting the hair of a little girl in his town; remembered the feel of the soft fur of a stray cat; the soft touch of Heidi's hand upon his. And then, even though he didn't want to, he felt bad for the prince.

And then and there he decided: there would be no more doubt, no more confusion about why he was here, or how he got here, or what he was doing. Those questions didn't help him at all, after all. And they didn't matter.

He wasn't quite sure where this revelation had come from.

He sighed tiredly – he seemed to be doing that a lot lately – and readied himself to go out and face the outside world.

He realised that new clothes had been placed on the small table at the corner of his room. That was an unnerving thought – that someone had come in while he had been sleeping, that someone could have so easily harmed him, that someone could have gone through his things… That he hadn't been awoken.

He had impeccable reflexes, he should have known if someone had been through his room. The table was on the opposite corner to the door, meaning that whoever laid out the clothing must have made their way across the floor, past his bed.

He shivered slightly, making a mental note to watch out for any possible intruders more carefully.

After more perusal of his belongings, it became apparent that his used clothing had also been taken out – for cleaning, he supposed. Duo wasn't sure if he felt indignant about that particular invasion of privacy, or flattered – he had never been waited on so well before. Never really been waited on at all.

He was in the midst of slipping his undershirt on when a smallish young lady crept in. She looked up when he coughed and a heavy blush stained her cheeks when she saw him in such a state of undress. A series of mumbled apologies later she turned to go. He called out, wondering why the cursed shirt wouldn't go on properly. Ignoring the shirt for the moment he hurried to her side.

"Please, wait a moment."

She wasn't quite looking at him; instead she was alternating her glances between the unused shirt in his hands, his bared chest, and the floor.

He tried to smile reassuringly while pulling the shirt on – it came on at last, to his relief.

"Were you the one who's been bringing in my clothes?"

She nodded, looking slightly bolder. "And yer food, sir."

Duo smiled. "Oh, well, thank you."

She returned his smile hesitantly, while slipping furtive glances at the open door.

"Have you been here long?" She was his only hope for information, and he wasn't about to let her go anytime soon!

"Oh, all my life, sir." Of course, Duo realised, they couldn't exactly leave whenever they wanted, nor was it exactly easy to get in. At that, he wandered vaguely about Zechs' strange father, and how _he_ had managed to enter.

He nodded. "Oh, how rude of me! Duo Maxwell, at your service." He stuck out a hand.

She looked uncomfortable and was staring uneasily at his hand. Finally, she bobbed a small curtsey. "Sir."

"You have a name?" he prompted.

"Hilde," she said, warily.

"Pretty name," he told her, smiling. She blushed. She was quite like the girl Heidi from his home, he thought. Their names were similar, and their looks enough alike that they could most likely have been taken for sisters. It had been a while since Duo had seen Heidi, though, and she might have changed since then. He brought his thoughts back to the here and now.

"Have you ever waited on the prince?" he asked, casually.

She blinked, startled. "Oh, no, never." She shuddered, not bothering to hide it.

"Are you… scared of him?"

"Oh, we all are, sir." Looking nervous, she added, "yer not gonna tell him, are ya?"

"No, no. But why?"

She looked so surprised, like that was the most ridiculous question she had ever been asked. "He… he's just plain _mean_, sir. We've… we've seen how he's been actin' ta ya, sir, we've all seen." She reddened. "We all think yer real brave, sir, stickin' up to him like tha'."

"But has he ever talked to you?"

She laughed, a tinkley, girly sort of laugh – exactly like the ones Heidi used to give that had grated on his nerves so. "Oh, no, ne'er, sir. He ne'er talks to no one! Jus'… jus' sits 'n' stares at stuff…"

"Then why are you all so scared?"

"You've never seen 'em, sir?" She shivered, but her eyes were gleaming. "All 'em statues, dead-like. I know this one, 'e says 'e saw 'im do it, jus' grabbed onta the girl an' then she was one o' 'em!"

"They say 'e likes girls, too," she whispered, beckoning Duo closer. "Young girls, and 'e makes 'em fall in love – witchery, they tell us. Then 'e jus' grabs 'em an' kills 'em."

That couldn't be true, could it? He could have sworn he had seen pain in Heero's eyes, at one point or another. It was unclear why he was feeling so defensive for a guy who had been nothing but rude to him, but these servants of his – they were all operating under somewhat false fear, were they not? They should have tried to help him, at least! No one – but no one – could make such a direct change from being a normal human to being cursed with such a horrid thing. If someone had tried to be there for him, things could never have gotten this bad!

…Right?

She was still speaking. "They say it's cuz' of 'is sister."

"Sister?" Now that he thought about it, that painting he had seen some days ago… the queen had seemed quite fat – or, well, pregnant.

"Yea'… yer know what 'e did, right?"

"What?" He was also whispering now.

"He… he turned 'er, sir!" she finished triumphantly. "On the very firs' day, too… That's what started 'im all…" she gestured randomly, "all crazy like."

"That would turn anyone crazy," Duo murmured, mostly to himself. And afterwards, having to live with everyone fearing him and hating him… what a hell on earth.

Hilde was looking strangely at him. "Everyone's scared of him?"

"Oh, yea'," she assured him, "everyone. Well," she paused, tapping a finger on her chin. She certainly didn't seem nervous anymore… "Sometimes yer get one of 'em. The ones tha' think they can… yer know, break the curse 'n' all."

"The curse… tell me more about the curse." The urgency in his voice shocked Duo, even.

She looked startled, but recovered fairly quickly. "Well, yer know, he turns stuff ta gold 'n' all. And he's real old, too… Ne'er dies… immortal. S'posed ta be tha' if someone gets 'im to fall in love with 'em, an' they kiss or somethin', they break the curse."

All right then, there was his answer. Duo was obviously here so he could help the prince to fall madly in love with some servant girl – after he got over himself – and live happily after. He'd be happy, everyone else would be happy, and Duo… Duo would be happy, right?

He shook his head, forced a smile onto his face and wondered why that thought hurt.

"They stopped tryin', tho', years ago. My ma said tha' hardly anyone believes tha' 'e can love a' all." She shook her head. "Cruel, cruel man. Always has been."

He was about to ask about Relena, when she answered his question for him. "Tho', there was this girl, 'n' 'er father." Hilde's eyes misted up. "She was right nice, too. Ne'er did nothin' wrong. But then she started goin' strange, started tryin' ta get close ta 'im… We all warned 'er… Oh, we warned 'er, but she didn't listen, and 'e turned 'er…"

"Her name?"

She blinked. "Oh, we called 'er Relena, sir."

Duo sighed. "Yeah, I thought as much."

"You knew 'er, sir?"

"Not really, no." He left it at that, searching for any other questions he wanted to ask her. It seemed like he'd had a million, but now, he couldn't think of any…

"If you're quite done…"

Duo flinched at the utter venom in that now-familiar voice, and Hilde practically jumped out of her skin.

Duo looked up at the open door – and at Heero standing in front of it. "H… Heero," he uttered, biting a lip. What exactly had he heard? And to see Duo with this girl, gossiping like schoolgirls – and about him!

Hilde dipped into a curtsey so low she was barely in Duo's line of vision. "Yer Highness," she whimpered.

The prince looked stunning, Duo thought numbly. He ran his eyes over the still figure, wondering if this was it. He'd thought that maybe, things would work out, but the still look on the prince's face, the look in his eyes that scorched Duo from the inside…

"Have a nice chat?" Heero asked, words clipped and tainted with some bitterness.

Yes? No? Duo didn't know. What was he supposed to say?

Heero raised an eyebrow. "Nothing to say? A pity."

Hell, had his tongue gone numb? Duo could only blink at the man in front of him.

They stood like that for a long time, and Duo couldn't help but feel as if he had somehow betrayed Heero in some way. He wondered if maybe hearing their conversation had hurt the blue-eyed man – and then, as he saw the emotionless face before him, wondered if anything he could do would ever hurt the man.

The deathly silence was broken when Hilde, who had been flicking her eyes back and forwards, gave a low moan of fear, and started to make for the door.

It was almost funny, Duo thought later, but it had been like he just _knew_ what was going to happen. Even as he called for her to stop, he could _see_ that she would try to dodge around the prince, try to avoid him and get out of the room. And he could just _see_ Heero – almost shocked – to react on instinct and try to defend himself from an attack that wasn't meant to be, as Hilde tripped. And Duo just knew, even before it happened, that Heero would throw out a hand purely based on gut reaction and grab onto her.

And then everything happened, and though he had practically seen it in his mind, known the sequence of events, that didn't make it any easier to watch.

Watch, as Heero's hand gripped onto Hilde's slender wrist. Watch, as the girl's face grew into one of pure terror, then a second later, resignation, regret. And then he saw her face freeze that way, still and unmoving, and right in front of his eyes he saw her turn to gold.

He couldn't really dredge up an emotion, and nothing sprung up inside him. Only that same resignation that he had seen on her face, and only an ever-increasing numbness that grew in his gut and spread all over.

Duo looked at the prince then, and saw the shock written there, the regret that could maybe have been felt in a greater amount than Hilde herself. And Duo saw disgust, almost self-hatred, as Heero looked at the still golden form.

"Sorry."

It didn't feel like it had surfaced from his lips; then again he didn't – couldn't – feel anything at that particular moment.

Heero blinked, looking up, and then all that painful, heart-wrenching emotion was gone, replaced with deadness.

And in a slow, precise voice, he intoned, "You may leave now." With that he was gone, his steps still echoing in Duo's ears long after.

It seemed an eternity until Duo could move, and even then his limbs felt sluggish. It was too much, he thought. A few girls were coming in, throwing themselves on the ground and weeping over the still, lifeless body, but their cries were only a fraction of the sound pounding in his ears.

Too much.

* * *

Heero walked for a long time, wondering momentarily if he was perhaps moving in circles. Again and again he could see Duo's face, and it tore at him in a way he had never been torn. It felt like old wounds had been ripped viciously open and left to burn in the hot sun – and perhaps they had.

He hadn't even seen it coming – much to his chagrin. Never seen the silly girl – just another one of them. But she didn't matter, not really. Duo did, and the look on Duo's face had been similar, too similar, to the one on his sister's.

Finally, on an old, deserted corridor, one that even the bravest of servants didn't venture into, he dropped to the ground. The cold floor numbed him further, and for the first time in a long time, though he didn't know why, he wondered if he could still cry.

TBC-

**_End Note:_** Terribly sorry for my extremely OOC Hilde... I have no excuse. (Except the one Kimiki gave me!)

Also, Kimiki asked me: _IS HEE-CHAN BASICALLY AGE-SUSPENDED IN THIS CURSE. I KNOW THAT HE DOESN'T AGE, BUT WHEN THE CURSE IS BROKEN, WILL HE FADE TO DUST BECAUSE OF HIS AGE, OR WILL HE PICK UP WHERE HE LEFT OFF? IS IT THE SAME FOR ALL THE GOLDEN STATUES?_ -- Duo wonders the same thing later. -grin- so just hang in there, okay? I will endeavor to have that question answered in the coming chapters.

Thanks Kimiki, for the great beta (just like all the previous ones). I'll work on my horrid two liners and obsessive use of commas – or try, at any rate.

Reviews make my day, as always. Thanks so much: Yasei Raiden, Mineko Yuy, ahanchan, ravel queen, jess-eklom, InfectedLife, Lost-Remembrance, ZaKai, for sticking with this fic, and anyone whose previously reviewed.

I do apologize for the long time it took me to post. I'll try harder!


	8. hepta

**Chapter** **Seven - hepta**

There she was.

The newest addition to what was the most morbid thing that could ever have been thought of – but it was too late to change that now, wasn't it?

It had seemed like a good idea at the time – or perhaps everyone who's opinion had mattered had been too horror-struck to think it completely through. His father had ordered the "dead" garden – the very one he was looking at now – to be completely surrounded, and the few statues – then – to be placed there. Heero had known what they called it, whilst whispering and pointing behind his back, even then; after all, there was nothing quite so fitting.

He had turned the entire garden gold on his eighteenth birthday, right after Marie. Wracked with horror, outrage, disbelief, he had stumbled out, blindly killing every shred of life in that place.

Back then, the thought of hurting anyone, killing anyone in that horrible way, had made his blood turn cold. Those first two unsuspecting servants that had come after Marie – he had spent great hours mourning their lives and searching for ways to cure them, to cure _him_. He had been so close at one time, but the book had been old, handwritten, and with pages lost.

Yes, he had mourned for strangers once, and yet, he had forgotten his beloved little sister.

How, he still wasn't sure. He remembered reading that great trauma caused the brain to try to forget, in order for the pain to be dulled. But he had felt pain, great pain from the others! And no one had said anything – not his parents, not anyone. Oh, sometimes he had heard the servants murmuring about some poor child, but never could he have imagined it had been Marie.

Every bit of her existence had been kept from him, nothing that could somehow remind him she had existed. Except for the horror, the fragments of memories that were slowly returning, and the familiarity of that longhaired male who smiled.

It was no wonder he had no pictures to remember his family by. Nothing but that one painting, hanging forgotten on the wall.

He wondered why it had seemed more important to his family to forget about the daughter, loved by all, than to give him a good slap in the face. Maybe, had the reminder of Marie been around, things would have turned out differently, maybe he would have tried just a little bit harder.

But what good did whys and maybes do for him now?

He looked out the window. The servant girl was easy to spot: her body in a rather awkward position and her eyes larger than most.

It was hard to remember the anguish he had felt in copious amounts once, a long time ago – now he could only feel the barest hints of remorse. Remarkable what a couple of centuries could do, really.

'Well, mother,' he thought, almost hatefully, 'I'm living. Now what?' His mother's smiling face entered his mind, along with Marie's, and he regretted that thought, a sliver of guilt hitting him hard, fast, before it was gone.

Their faces left, replaced now with the face of that minstrel. That man had somehow worked his way into Heero's life, worming his way under Heero's skin. Yes, he had wanted something to change, but he had almost been too much of a change, too sudden, leaving Heero completely lost at times about how he felt regarding the boy, and what he ought to do.

And there was that painful question – why couldn't he simply turn the boy and be done with things? Even considering the way he had reminded Heero of Marie – Heero had turned many, many innocent girls. He hadn't quite known the intense reason he had for doing so at times, only that they didn't deserve to have this life, that they would so willingly throw away for a mere rumour.

Time had passed, and now, no one would get close to him – he knew that, he could deal with that. Because facts were facts, he was a killer, and a murderer, even if no blood had technically been spilled.

Everything – it all made sense, in a way – everything except for that ridiculous violet-eyed male!

But that didn't matter. He would be gone by now, no doubt about that. Heero had wondered if he could have been different – he had seemed that way – but the look on his face had said everything Heero needed to know.

"Hey there."

That voice made him jump, and the warmth eluding from it hurt somehow.

Had he imagined that? There was no possible way!

But the steps approaching him were real, and the much louder, much clearer "Hey" was certainly not imagined.

Heero turned around slowing, resisting the urge to blink in shock. "Morning," Duo said, smiling.

'Something was different,' Heero noticed, in a haze of thought, and at last it came to him. Instead of the braid the man usually had his astonishingly long hair in, it was gathered into some sort of ponytail and flipping about wildly.

Why he noticed that, why he bothered giving it a moment of thought, he didn't quite know.

"You're stubborn," Heero said, turning away, but wanting really to thank him. Thank him for being different, for staying, for not showing any hints of the hatred Heero knew he must feel inside.

Heero could never do that, of course, but thinking it was more than he had ever gifted to anyone.

"So I've been told," Duo laughed, taking a step closer, then another, until he was side by side with Heero. The violet-eyed man glanced out the window. "Looks better from up here," he remarked.

No one had ever dared to come this close to him before. No one. He was either very stupid, or very trustworthy – Heero would have preferred it to be the second one.

Duo shifted slightly, inadvertently pressing himself even closer. Heero clenched his hands into fists. What was he doing?

"I'm not crazy," Duo said slowing, "and I know what I'm doing, and I'm not leaving." The last three words were accentuated with a small jab each on Heero's chest. Heero narrowed his eyes, and Duo shrugged, laughing lightly. "I have been known to be just a _bit_ suicidal, though!" He sighed, when Heero did nothing. "You ever laugh?"

"No."

He sighed again. "Well, we're gonna have to fix that, along with the many other things then, aren't we?" He grabbed Heero's arm – a bit tentatively, but with a firm grip.

Heero flinched, pulling back. Duo never loosened his hand.

Heero stood his ground, not budging even as Duo pulled, and still keeping his hands firmly fisted up. "What are you doing?"

"I'm helping you," Duo said simply, giving him a beatific smile.

Whether it was those words or that smile that made Heero follow him, he didn't know.

* * *

Duo could barely resist jumping up and down and pumping his fists in the air. He definitely deserved some sort of award after this – the prince was following him. They had lasted a full conversation – albeit a rather short one – with no threats, no running away, no "unfortunate incidents" or anything that could otherwise have been construed as bad. Sure, Heero was walking a little stiffly, but that was a given – he had gone centuries without human touch, after all. 

It could be said that Duo was feeling rather pleased with himself. It was rather lucky that Heero had reacted the way he had; if he had been as cold and unfeeling as their very first meeting, Duo might have changed his mind and left after all.

Duo had decided to stay after making his way to his travelling companions' rooms the night before. He had stood unnoticed for a moment by the door, just watching them.

Wufei and Zechs had been involved in some deep, most likely intellectual conversation, piles of notes and parchments surrounding them. Wufei had been gesturing wildly at Zechs, but the other man had only nodded mildly, with a strange little half-smile on his face.

Trowa and Quatre, on the other hand, were sitting on the floor, facing one another. They were talking in low, muted tones, impossible to hear, and one could only guess what they were saying. It had to be good, for they were smiling at each other, almost tenderly, and a close watcher would notice how their fingers were almost touching.

That kind of companionship was beautiful to behold, and it made Duo determined to help the prince find it.

There was a tiny little thought, little hope, that maybe one day he could find it himself. Because seeing them like that had only made him feel even more excluded. He had pushed those thoughts swiftly away, but…

That didn't mean they weren't still there.

Duo sighed, a tiny little sigh. Apparently it hadn't been soft enough, for he caught the prince staring intently at him. "Yes?" he asked, thinking with a mental smile that if the man asked him what was wrong, Duo might just kiss him.

Heero narrowed his eyes. He was almost like a little boy, jealously hiding – like a precious toy – his feelings so that others could not see them. He scowled at Duo, who just beamed back. That simply made him frown further.

"Where are you taking me?"

Duo exhaled softly. It might have been nice if he had just shown a little more care about other people's feelings…

He glanced down to where he was still holding on to Heero's arm. He suddenly noticed the way his hand was fisted and held tightly against his side – making Duo feel better and more convinced that the prince wouldn't hurt him – never intentionally, anyhow. He wasn't sure if the hand was fisted deliberately or not – either way, it was somewhat sweet.

"Well?" The gaze levelled on him was demanding something... now.

"Nowhere, really," Duo said, and that _was_ true.

"What?" His low voice rose slightly, as if on the verge of expressing emotion... just not quite.

"Nowhere," Duo laughed, smiling at the other man so he would be quite sure that Duo wasn't laughing at him. "We're walking. Isn't it fun?" Heero looked outraged. "Well, if it means so much to you, I guess I could change my plans."

He turned around quickly, prodding Heero in the back to do the same. "Go on. Wherever you want to go." Heero said nothing, fixing Duo with a stare that made him want to curl up into the foetal position.

Instead, he settled for walking back the way they had come, his eyes looking for the small passageway he knew led out to the garden. Or, a garden, it wasn't that significant. So long as it wasn't that golden, horrid one.

He hadn't lied to Heero, it had looked better from the window he had found the prince at, but that didn't mean he liked it. It was sparklingly beautiful, in a sad, macabre sort of way.

He couldn't find it – perhaps they were at a different side of the castle? This place really confused him.

Duo looked back, worrying for a split second that Heero had abandoned him alone here to be lost.

He needn't have – the stoic man was still there, examining a blemish-free spot on the gold wall. Duo smiled and hurried back to his side.

Heero turned around. "Why are you smiling?" he demanded.

"People don't need a reason, usually," Duo told him, broadening his smile to a goofy grin.

Heero's lips twisted into a scowl, and he began walking. "Hurry up," he said curtly.

Soon he began to slow down and tilted his head slightly, indicating at something.. Duo slowed to a stop, curiosity piqued. They seemed to have walked into some sort of dead end, but then again the prince seemed to know exactly where he was going. Duo had no doubt about that; with him living for so many centuries in the same place, there was no doubt he'd know every nook and cranny of the place.

Duo walked up next to the painting that Heero appeared to be beckoning at. He examined it closely, but was still rather stumped for what he was supposed to be doing – until Heero walked up, pressed, with his knuckle, a tiny knob that had been blended _onto_ the painting, and gave Duo a not so subtle shove with his elbow. Loosing his balance, the minstrel fell forward – with nothing to stop him from tumbling rather inelegantly onto soft, if worn, carpet, creaking noises sounding vaguely around him.

"Apparently the founders of Hei had rather remarkable skills with mechanics," Heero remarked belatedly.

Duo huffed, standing up and brushing off his clothes. He looked around, trying not to stare.

They were in a small, rounded room, with pretty painted flowers and vines curving every which way upon the wall. There was a couch with a heavy rug draped upon it, a dark blue-purple swirl of colour with tiny gold stitching along the rims. A small, three-legged table was to the right of it, with a small glass vase containing a silver rose upon it.

It was a stunning room, not because it was particularly plush or grand, but because there was a strange feeling in it, not quite anything in particular but like a mix of everything nice, everything one would need in order to curl up and fall asleep in peace.

Yeah, Duo realised. It was a room made of peace, made for peace.

"I found this place when I was five," Heero said, a hint softer, and with a slight edge. He let out a sharp bark-like laugh. "Haven't been through here in a long, long time."

"It's… nice," Duo said, not quite sure what else to say. He got the feeling that Heero wouldn't have shown this place to just anyone, and that he was here, that _Heero_ had shown him in, was a rather heady thought.

"There's a small garden out the back." He looked at Duo, as if… as if what?

Duo nodded, his eyes widening slightly, subconsciously hoping to coax the prince into saying more.

"Do you…" Heero trailed off, and it was something between a statement and a question.

Those two words were really all Duo needed, right at that moment. "I'm right behind you." It was like every word that left the prince's mouth not dripped in anger was a special, rare gift of some sort – no matter how ridiculous the thought seemed. There was something about that stoic, sullen man that was...

A simple nod, and Heero was ducking through a low archway, the scraping sound of long unused hinges working again soon surfacing.

Duo followed Heero, and as he stepped through plain wooden door pulled up a hand to shield his eyes from the sunlight.

The place glinted – but not in the way of the golden garden. Instead, sunlight sparked off dewdrops that had gathered, deep green leaves rubbed together – creating a soft background sound, bunches of flowers grew: tall, short, clustered and standing alone, all blending together to create a surrealistic effect. Duo blinked, and the sunlight was only partially responsible.

He watched as Heero examined a small purple flower and nodded. "Hasn't changed much," he said disinterestedly.

"Have you been looking after this yourself?"

Heero raised his eyebrows. "No. How could that be possible?"

Duo shrugged awkwardly.

"Mother wanted a garden that would need no looking after. I assume that someone would come in to water it once in a while, but I understand that it is supposed to look after itself."

"How?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Ahh," Duo said, not feeling particularly wise at the moment. He looked at the prince: stoic, unsmiling, emotions hidden, then looked at the palace: large, looming, almost depressing, and felt something twist and tumble inside. Emotions welling up – though perhaps they weren't _bad_ ones – he opened his mouth and let out a scream. The sound filled the air and he didn't pause until he felt one step away from blacking out due to lack of oxygen.

He whipped around, grinning at the prince.

"I don't understand you."

Duo shrugged. "Well, I don't understand you either, so I suppose that's okay."

A silence, half awkward and half… not.

"I don't blame you." The words left Duo's mouth quickly, without having passed through his mind first. He hadn't exactly meant to say them.

"For?"

"For Hilde."

"Was that her name?"

Duo nodded, figuring that the prince would hardly be on a first name basis with very many people.

Another short pause, before – "Thank you."

"For?"

There was no answer, but that was okay with Duo.

A butterfly flitted about Duo's head, causing him to chuckle. With a few strong bats of its delicate wings, it moved to land on a near flower.

"Whose garden is this?"

"Mother's." Heero said shortly. "But Marie liked it too."

"Ahh," Duo said, not pressing further, although inside he was thinking – 'Marie?' Ordinarily, Duo hated silences – found them awkward and much preferred to fill them up. But this wasn't silence, not really – there was the rustle of leaves, the sound of the wind, the other man's breathing…

Suddenly, for no apparent reason, Duo burst out into laughter. It bubbled up and fell off his lips, just as spontaneous as his earlier shout.

"What's so funny?"

Between short spurts of laughter Duo managed to choke out – "Oh – nothing!"

Heero hesitated, looked uncomfortable and almost – sad, before he said, "You may… stay here as long as you like. I… have to go now."

He was gone before Duo could call out to him.

"I really don't understand him," he mused out loud. "I don't understand _me_, when I'm around him." And later – "What am I doing, anyway?"

Duo ducked under the shade of a low hanging tree, leaning against the stout trunk. The rough scratching of the wood against his back as he shifted around didn't bother him half as much as the prince did.

He sighed, and slowly drifted off to sleep.

In his dream he was wrapped up, safe, in warm arms, being twirled around – they were dancing. It wasn't a proper sort of dance, nor ones found in festivals. Rather, it was simply movement, more for the sake of being close to one another than anything else.

He was laughing – a lot, as it seemed, and as his lover held him close – or was it the other way around? – he could feel the vibrations of their mixed laughter. He tipped his head upwards, and for the first time got a glimpse of his lover's face. It seemed very familiar, for some odd reason, and he got the feeling that maybe… maybe this was wrong?

But no, it was right, it felt right, _he_ felt right.

All of a sudden he was falling, and although someone was holding on – they couldn't hold on forever. Their fingers were slipping, and with a last whisper of – love you, love you! – he was dropping, falling into a spiral of darkness…

When he finally woke up with a jerk it was late evening, almost night, with a hint of the moon visible in the sky. The air was growing chilly and he wrapped his arms around himself in a half-hearted bid to warm himself up.

That had been a rather strange dream, he pondered. He bit his lip, a sad sort of wanting filling up inside. It had been so nice, for a while, just to feel that completeness, that feeling of being wanted, of being loved, of – loving.

He tried to remember his dream lover, but while his mind could recall the warm touch and the strong arms enveloping him, he could barely call up any physical details.

Just the knowledge that it was the most beautiful person he had ever set eyes on.

That thought seemed familiar to him somehow, but he couldn't quite place why. Perhaps he had thought it of someone once. It felt like all his days were blurring together, and memories he grasped at he could barely match time and day too.

Duo placed his hands firmly on the spongy grass and with a slight groan, heaved himself up. If he weren't quite careful, he'd grow quite fat soon. With that in mind, Duo promised himself quite firmly that he'd go for an occasional run around the castle.

Perhaps he could even persuade the prince to join him.

Duo wandered back inside, and figuring that he was going to get lost anyway, decided to just take every left he came to. It wasn't like long walks weren't good for one's health.

Eventually he came across a familiar looking hallway and an even more familiar looking figure. Heero was standing in front of a painting, examining it closely with a twisted, unguarded expression of pain on his face.

Pain.

Hate.

Regret…

Each flashed across his strong face, softened somehow in the moment, and Duo tried to burn the image of Heero into his mind. Not the expressions, but simply the image of him without all his usual guards, masks. He looked almost…

Vulnerable.

Then, Duo realised that he didn't really pity the man. Not really.

But everyone needed a friend, right? Someone to rely on, someone to look to for help.

"Heero."

The man jumped, before his eyes grew urgent and fierce. "What are you doing here?" The words were low, his voice just a slight bit deeper than usual.

That cinched it. "Heero," Duo repeated, and he moved closer, placing just enough space between them both so no one would be threatened. "Trust me," he said simply. "We'll figure it out."

Heero's expression never changed.

Duo took one small step. "Trust me," he repeated. "Please?"

There was a long pause, and the prince's eyes flicked up to the painting just for a second. Then, just as Duo was beginning to lose all hope, there was the slightest of nods.

Duo smiled.

* * *

Heero didn't understand him. The way he had just appeared and thrown himself into Heero's life. The way he smiled, the way his violet eyes glinted and sparkled when he smiled. In a way, it was like he was everything that Heero could have been, could have felt, had he not been cursed.

What did he want? With all the other girls, they had tried to grow close to him on the basis of a dream, a simple rumour. That was simple. He knew how to deal with that. All of them had been identical in any way that had mattered, and not once had he felt any sort of emotion towards them besides anger, and hatred, on some sort of level.

It had been a long time since he had felt any sort of emotion besides those at all.

He took in a hitched breath as violet eyes and an elfin face flitted into his mind. He had never ever known anyone even remotely like Duo. Had never let people grow close, not even as a child, when his life had been unhindered with the curse.

He couldn't quite understand why he was allowing himself to be led along by this man, one who he didn't really known at all.

Every conscious, logical part of him was scorning him for being a fool, for trusting so easily the first person who came along with a friendly smile. Perhaps it had just been so long since someone had come along, proclaiming to want to help him, that he was trying to fool himself into thinking that this time could be different. That Duo meant everything he said.

There was still the fact that Duo hadn't told Heero any of his reasons for being here at all.

Heero pressed his lips tightly together and looked at the figure before him. Duo was talking rapidly, eyes shining brightly. Heero wasn't sure exactly what he was saying, but the prince found the quick movements of his lips entrancing.

Perhaps Duo was different, perhaps not. Why did it matter, in the end? It wasn't like anyone could really hurt Heero ultimately. For was that not part of the curse? That he would remain alone, apart from all others, feared and hated for something that he had never once wanted in his life.

No one could hurt him. He had no heart to be broken, no feelings to be hurt, and he was immortal.

He hated that word. With it came illusions of live everlasting, of power, of fulfilment. Of many other good things, none of which he had ever experienced.

He'd let the minstrel stay. No harm in that. And if it turned out that Duo was indeed trying to use him – it wasn't like Heero wouldn't know what to do.

Yes, that was what his mind was rationalising, but inside something else said that Duo _was_ different, and that if Heero let him in, it might turn out all right.

* * *

Trowa lay there, listening to the breathing of the other man in the small room that they shared. It had seemed an obvious choice, when a servant came to move two of them to the room beside their old one, that he and Quatre would share it. They had all been friends forever, it seemed – that was true, but there was no mistaking the obvious bond between Wufei and Zechs. They were so damned protective of each other. It seemed to be a case of: '_I'm_ the only one who can insult him. Don't _you_ dare'.

It would be better for them if they just admitted they were in love already.

Not that he wasn't somewhat of a hypocrite for thinking that – seeing as he was madly, incomprehensibly in love with Quatre.

He had nursed his crush – but damnit, it was more than that! – for so long that he could hardly remember a time when he hadn't felt that painful ache inside him. It was constantly there, every time he saw Quatre. Smiling, laughing, it didn't matter.

He could never tell him. Oh, he had done so a million times in his dreams – daydreams, good dreams, nightmares, all of them. In his head, Quatre had done anything from passionately returning his feelings – resulting in them having wild, crazy sex – or threatening to disembowel him – _that_ had been a particularly unpleasant night.

Trowa turned on his side, sighing. The golden walls were almost painful to look at, after a while.

"Trowa?" It was barely a whisper, more like a breath, but instantly recognisable – to him, anyway – as Quatre.

"Yes?"

"Can't sleep?"

He shook his head, belatedly remembering that Quatre probably couldn't see him. "No," he said quietly, half wondering if Quatre could hear him.

"Cold, isn't it."

"Aa," he agreed. Perhaps Quatre would crawl under the covers with him…?

"I wonder how Duo is."

Mentally, he let out an annoyed huff, but to Quatre, decided on muttering something incomprehensible.

"I'm sure he's fine… right?" He could almost imagine Quatre biting his lip.

"I'm sure he is."

"Perhaps we should have told him what else we knew. I mean, what if he's _the one_?"

"You said you were sure."

"I was, but now, I don't know!"

Trowa sighed slowly. "Would it make you feel better to find him and talk to him tomorrow?"

"Aa." He imagined Quatre's smile through the darkness as he looked at the figure in the bed next to his, thrilled in the thought that he had caused the smile. "Thank you, Trowa."

Trowa mumbled something. 'Quatre,' he imagined saying, 'don't you think it would be more efficient to share blankets and body heat?'

"Trowa?"

He started. "Yes?"

"I… You know I meant that, right?"

"Aa."

There was a long silence, Trowa knowing for certain that Quatre was still awake.

"This bed is rather uncomfortable," Quatre said suddenly.

Trowa's heart quickened. "Really? Mine seems fine."

"Is that so?" Then – "Would you mind-?" at the same time Trowa tried – "Do you want-?"

They laughed softly, uncomfortably. "Please do," Trowa said.

He heard Quatre hum slightly, saw him nod through the dark, and smiled softly as he watched the smaller figure gather up his blankets and pad slowly across the floor. He shifted slightly to one side, lifting up his blankets and waiting for the blond to crawl in. Quatre did so, and it was a while before either said anything.

"This is nice," Quatre whispered.

"Yes," Trowa agreed, feeling the press of the other man's bare arm against his own.

"I really was worried about Duo, you know."

"Yes… I know."

He heard Quatre sigh, imagined his eyelashes falling, and felt, more than saw the blond drift off to sleep.

Trowa knew that come the morning, they would both roll out their respective sides and carry out whatever was decided should be done, and neither would say anything. It was night now, and things done under the cover of the night were much easily forgotten.

Trowa reached out a tentative hand, searching for Quatre's own. He came across slender fingers, and not allowing himself to think too much, entwined them with his own.

A slight smile worked its way across his face, and he drifted off to sleep, thinking that maybe the slight squeeze of Quatre's hand was really just his imagination...

**TBC

* * *

**

Thanks for the reviews!

**_Eien-Tenshu_****_, neaphara, jess-eklom, I miss the Rain, Avel, Kimiki_** (and for the beta as always. I am forever in your debt!), **_Amy Hirosaki, camillian, Mineko Yuy, ahanchan, Onee-sama, InfectedLife, Yaruna-chan, Sirithgliniel _**and **_ZaKai._**

Thanks so much for all the feedback! I'm so very sorry this took such a long time... but life's been getting in the way. I will strive to both a) write faster, and b) post faster. Thanks for sticking with me... I **_really_** appreciate you guys!


	9. octo

_Short note: Kimiki said that I should warn of excessive sap... so here it is, your warning! Beware unbearable 6x5 sap!_

**_Chapter Eight_**

Duo was leaning comfortably against the wall, his head tilted slightly back. Looking out the corner of his eye, he could see the stiff form of Heero next to him. The prince had finally sat down after much persuasion on Duo's part. Looking at the stoic man standing there had hurt his neck and annoyed him. He'd felt almost dwarfed, and he wasn't sure that it had purely been based on the obvious.

Anyhow, there he was. Deep inside Hei, in its royal palace, sitting next to the un-talking, unsmiling, stiff-backed prince. Simply looking at Heero's posture was making his own back ache.

"Do you plan on saying anything?"

Heero looked at him. "I thought that was your job."

Duo made a small sound out of nowhere. "I thought I'd give you the chance first." He paused, then added, "Maybe you like silence."

"I don't," Heero snapped, turning his head and staring at the ground.

Duo exhaled a breathe he hadn't realised he'd taken in. "Neither do I," he admitted, mirroring the prince's actions unconsciously.

Then the bard coughed. "When's your birthday?"

"Why?"

"Sheer curiosity. Humour me."

Heero hesitated, then almost sheepishly, said, "I… don't remember."

Duo shrugged and tried to meet his eyes. "Sure… That's understandable, I guess."

"Yours?"

Duo looked up to meet almost inquisitive eyes. Well, on second thought, not really, but Heero could have been interested… maybe. "You really want to know?"

The prince didn't answer. Duo furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. When _was_ his birthday? It was funny how he had to _think_ about such a question, but lately at times he could barely get a grasp on his own name, so…

He did a quick date count, and laughed.

"What?"

"Tomorrow," Duo told him, grinning. "Birthday's tomorrow."

Heero looked up and Duo followed his eyes until he was looking at a candle, almost burnt completely out. It was perched upon a small ledge, by some drapes, and he hadn't noticed it before.

They watched together, until at last the wick ran out, the wax almost completely gone, and the small flame extinguished.

"Not anymore," Heero stated.

"You'd be right, there."

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen now." Duo grinned. "Always found it strange that I never feel any different on birthdays. I always think that I'll somehow feel older, or wiser, but…" He shrugged. "Guess I'm always gonna be plain old me."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

Duo beamed, more because he wanted to see Heero's reaction than because he felt like it.

"Nothing wrong with me? That's so nice of you to say!"

"I didn't mean it like that! I just meant that there's nothing wrong with being who you are."

The prince was so defensive! It was like anything Duo said, jokingly or otherwise, could be construed as a possible threat. To whom, Duo didn't know.

Duo wanted to ask about Heero's past, about his family and what he liked and disliked – the normal things people would talk about when getting to know each other. But he couldn't exactly do that. It would most probably force Heero further back into that cold bastard façade he had, and that was the last thing the minstrel wanted.

Duo felt jarringly out of his element. He fidgeted with his braid, looking at the elegant prince from the corner of his eye.

"Heero?"

"Yes?"

"Why… why don't we go to the library?"

"Why?" His eyes narrowed.

"I said I'm going to help you. So I am. And a nice place to start would most probably be in books. And books are found in libraries, and I've noticed you have one of your very own here. So that's where we're going to go." He smiled and looked expectantly at Heero.

"Hn." Heero stood up suddenly. "Fine."

Duo mirrored his actions. He followed the stoic man, leaving a small distance between them. As they walked, Duo unconsciously mimicked Heero's steps, right, left, right, left, so they were walking in synchronization; the rhythmic beat of Heero's steps helping Duo to drift off into thought.

If the conversation with Hilde had done anything, it had made him realize what he had to do. Help Heero fall in love, right? Duo bit his lip. That was why he had been able to get to Hei. It was all some sort of perfect plan, set up by… fate. That brought a small, crooked smile onto Duo's face. He had never been much of a believer in fate at all, but then again, what else could it be?

It shouldn't be too hard, getting Heero to fall madly in love with some nice girl. Duo was positive there were a few around. He'd simply find a nice, sweet, pretty girl, make sure Heero wouldn't scare her away before she could work her charms on him, and they'd fall in love, the curse would be broken, and it would be happily ever after for everyone.

Except him, of course. Truthfully, Duo had no clue as to what he would do after he helped Heero – and indirectly, Hei, all its inhabitants, meaning Trowa, Quatre, Wufei and Zechs. Which was what he had set out to do in the first place, right?

So. Thank yous would be exchanged, everyone would commend him on a job well done, and what was after that?

Duo hadn't been at the castle for too long, really, but it was strange how… at ease he felt here. And he hadn't known Heero for too long either, but he could understand him, mostly, and Duo felt a strange sort of empathy with the stoic prince.

He would have to leave, but he would miss Heero. Then again, he couldn't exactly intrude on the happy couple's happily ever after.

What about his own?

Duo stopped, running a hand through his bangs. It was funny – he wasn't even close to freeing Heero of the curse and here he was worrying about what he would do afterwards.

He'd get by. He always did, no matter what. Duo Maxwell worked best in the face of adversity.

Heero turned a corner and Duo thought he heard a small 'eep'. He turned his head, catching sight of a small, obviously girlish figure, ducking into the shadows.

That small sight made Duo terribly annoyed, but he refused to think why.

"Is _everyone_ scared of you?" he burst out. Frustration was welling up inside him, almost physically choking him.

Heero froze. "Yes," he said finally, a painful surety clouding the word.

Duo bit the inside of his mouth and hurried to his side. "I'm… sorry," he said, trying to catch the prince's eye. "But that's not exactly true."

"What?"

Duo tilted his head to one side. "I'm not scared, am I?"

Again, Heero froze, but at last he looked up to see Duo's bright violet eyes. His lips tilted upwards just slightly, and if Duo hadn't been looking at him so intently the bard wouldn't have noticed it. "No," Heero said slowly, "I guess not."

Duo smiled broadly. Before he knew what he was doing he gave Heero an impulsive hug. The force made Heero lose his balance slightly, and the two fell backwards. Heero's hand grappled forward, trying to find something to hold onto. But Duo was in the way, and the prince's blue eyes widened about the same time Duo had that realisation.

Duo squeezed his eyes tight, biting into his lip painfully. He vaguely noticed they had landed on the ground, but Heero had taken most of the force of the fall and acted like a cushion for Duo. He kept his eyes shut for a moment longer, then opened them.

Heero was staring at the grasp his hand had on Duo's shirt. Duo's golden shirt. His eyes slid up, meeting with Duo's.

The erratic pounding of Duo's heart had faded somewhat, and he tried furiously to calm himself. He was fine. Heero hadn't hurt him.

Heero…

The prince was still in shock. "Sorry," Heero said hoarsely. "I'm so sorry…"

Duo struggled to find words, and to get his lips to move. "No… no, I'm sorry, it was my fault." Duo tried to get his breathing to resume a normal pace. As he took in a shuddering breath, he had the belated realisation that he was laying on top of the prince. He started to stand up quickly. "Sorry, sorry…"

Heero was still holding on to Duo's shirt. "Uh…" The prince let go quickly. Duo got up.

Heero gave him an undecipherable look, stood up, and started to walk away. "Don't!" Duo exclaimed. "Don't go!" He grabbed onto Heero's arm.

"Don't you see?" Heero said, bitterness clouding his voice. "This is why you have to leave."

"No," Duo said stubbornly. He let go of Heero's arm, fingertips tingling. "No, no, no."

A hardness had crept into Heero's eyes. "You-"

"Don't. Don't do this." He gave Heero a shaky smile. "Don't get all cold and unfeeling on me." Duo ran his fingers down Heero's arm, all the way down the back of his hand. Mouth dry, he said, "See? Not scared."

Neither of them said anything for a while, until at last Heero broke the silence. "The library?"

Duo nodded, swallowing and throwing an arm around Heero's shoulders. "Sure."

And when Heero didn't nothing to shake off the contact, Duo smiled.

o-o-o-o

"'Fei?"

Wufei blinked his eyes, trying to clear his head. "Time?"

"First moon hour."

He looked grumpily at Zechs, who had the courtesy of looking abashed for a moment. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to talk."

"You wake me up in the _first moon hour_ to _talk_?" Wufei felt just a little bit guilty when Zechs looked away.

"You're right, I'm sorry. You can get back to sleep now."

Wufei bit his lip, staring at the too-straight back of his best friend.

They hadn't seemed much like best friends lately.

"Zechs, please come back." The blond turned around and Wufei pushed himself up, grunting a little. "You're right. I… want to talk too, I guess."

"You don't have to…" Zechs trailed off.

Voice firm, Wufei said, "I want to. Now sit." He patted the space before his feet on the mattress. Zechs needed no more convincing. His legs made short work of the space between them and soon, after Wufei handed him a pillow, was sitting facing Wufei.

There was a short moment of tenseness when they struggled to find comfortable spots for their legs to go. Wufei sighed, for he had somehow managed to intertwine his legs with Zechs'. It was surprisingly comfortable, so he shot Zechs a tentative smile.

Zechs returned it with a half-smile of his own.

"It's been a while, huh, since we've… done this."

Wufei rose an eyebrow. "This? I don't think we've done this since we were… what? Eight?"

"You were nine. That one particular thunderstorm really scared you, but you didn't want your parents to know and think less of you, so you ran all the way to my house in the pouring rain." Zechs smiled fondly. "I thought you were a ghost when I first saw you, soaking wet and hair all strewn about…"

Wufei scowled.

Zechs grinned. "Not that you didn't make the cutest sight, of course." The scowl deepened. "But… I didn't mean this, this, I meant… talking."

"Things have been a little crazy."

"I know. I just felt like…" The blond hesitated, looking down and causing his hair to fall and block his eyes.

"Like?"

"Like I'm losing you." Zechs twisted his fingers around the bedspread as he drew his lips tightly together.

Wufei reached out, and grasped onto Zechs' own, much larger hand. "You'll never lose me, Zechs."

"I know, but…"

"You'll never lose me," Wufei repeated. Guilt nipped at him, and he said, "And… I'm sorry for not telling you."

Zechs finally looked up at him. He was smiling, not a sad smile, but a thoughtful one. "I'm not mad. I wasn't ever really mad. I just…" he paused, "I guess it just made me miss the days, back when you were five and I was nine and there wasn't a single thing you did or you thought of that you ever hesitated to tell me. Or when I turned 13 and realised that I told you everything too."

Wufei swallowed. He knew what he was going to say, and he knew he probably shouldn't say it, but there was something about the moment, being so far away from the town they had grown up in and surrounded by strangeness, with the moon glowing beyond the window of the palace, so serene in its paleness…

"That's not true," he said lowly, almost wincing when he heard his voice.

"Huh?" Zechs was confused, and Wufei wanted to stop, but he looked down at their hands, that had somehow become all tangled up together, and found himself go on awkwardly.

"When I was five and you were nine… there was… one very important thing that I always thought about that I never ever told you." His hair was falling into his eyes and he blinked, watching as Zechs absent-mindedly brought up his other free hand to tuck Wufei's hair behind his ear. Somehow, that gave him enough courage to go on, though he couldn't quite do the honourable thing and meet Zechs' wonderful eyes as he spoke.

"When I was five and you were nine… I thought you were amazing," he stated bluntly.

Zechs laughed gently. "Did you forget? You were always telling me that. After I finished practising fighting with the other boys, or reciting pieces of the great Hei poets, you'd always be there, looking up at me with such… awe, and you'd say, 'Zechs, that was amazing!'" He grinned. "You were really, really good for my self-esteem."

"No," Wufei continued, still not able to meet his eyes, though Zechs' words brought a wave of something akin to embarrassment. "That's not what I'm talking about. When I was five, I never stopped watching you. And I was jealous that you didn't want to spend every moment with me, that you'd go off with the other boys telling me that I was too young and that it was too dangerous, and I was left alone." 'Dishonour!' he thought, blushing slightly and unable to believe that he was really saying what he was saying.

"So I would watch you, every moment, and I would think to myself…" he hesitated, ducking his head down. "I would think to myself… that you were amazing, and that… one day I would make you fall in love with me." He looked up, finally, meeting Zechs' brilliantly blue eyes and scolding himself for being a coward and not doing so earlier.

"Because… Zechs… When I was five… I loved you. And… I never stopped."

He must have stopped breathing, because the next thing he knew Zechs was kissing him, and he simply couldn't anymore.

It was nice. So nice that he wasn't quite sure what to do, couldn't think, could only kiss him back, pressing their lips closer together and getting a thrill out of the fact that they were sharing the same breath, that they were touching, lips moving against each other in liquid wonder so real and so unbelievable.

Zechs stopped, pulling away slightly, and he would have felt sad but for the fact that it had served to convince him that there were going to be many, many more.

"I'm sorry," Zechs breathed, pressing their foreheads together.

"Why?" Wufei questioned, feeling somewhat abstracted from himself. His mind was incoherent, lost somewhere in the space of time that had finally been reborn from within his hopes and into existence. Zechs was so close, and they had _kissed_, and this was _Zechs_, the one that had always been there and always, always mattered more than anyone else. This was _Zechs_, and nothing was wrong, not now…

"For making you be the one to say it first." And Zechs had never smiled at him like that before, like he was everything precious in the world…

And that was that. It felt strange, in a way, that after so many years of longing and hoping against hope for more, for the tall blond to look at him as more than a friend, to have free reign to touch and hold and kiss, just like that.

It just felt like it was too easy, too easy for them, who had never had anything good come without fighting for it.

But Zechs folded his arms around him, and Wufei leaned in to begin touching their lips together again. And he had forgotten how it had felt, had forgotten the thrill that had ran through him as they touched, had forgotten the feeling of 'oh this is really happening to me'; but it was all coming back to him, every detail just as sharp and incandescent, as he felt Zechs tongue gently touch his lips and he parted them willingly as he fingered soft blond hair and curved into Zechs' body until they were all wrapped up in one another.

This was the epitome of everything that he had ever wanted, and who was he to question happiness?

Duo was walking behind Heero, watching as the Prince walked, watching _how_ the Prince walked.

He grinned to himself as his own thoughts struck him. The Prince. The Prince of _Hei_. He exhaled softly, feeling his smile grow and grow. He had made it, he realised at last. It finally hit him. He was here, in the land of Hei, in the castle of Hei, trailing behind the legend, the physical illustration of all of Wufei's books and scribblings…

And yet… somehow, when Duo thought of Heero, of their volatile meetings and the expressions on the face of the man the servants all thought had a heart of stone – if he had a heart at all – he didn't really see the embodiment of a Prince. Yes, regal and blue-blood were two things stitched into every inch of the other man, in the way he held himself, in the way he stood, in the way he walked…

Staring, as Heero never slowed from his pace – not strolling, yet not in haste – he admired the set of the dark haired man's shoulders, the way his cloak moved fluidly around him with every step, the colour and shape of his arms…

Duo remembered trailing his fingers down Heero's arm, just bare moments ago, and bit his lip. When he had reached the back of Heero's hand, he had felt a sharp thrill go through him, and for a moment, he had thought that it was the end, that something had gone wrong, that Heero had turned him into gold and his fate had led him to become nothing more than another one of those lifeless, empty statues scattered in the garden.

And, though he had felt vaguely sad for himself, the bulk of the shot of panic that had flooded through him was rooted in sorrow for Heero, for Heero, who hadn't really done anything wrong, not at first, not as a newborn baby cursed for eternity… who, he had thought for a moment, had ended up killing him, Duo, the guy who Heero – who Heero…

Duo bit his lip again, tooth sinking into the same indentation made in his lip before and deepening it.

What exactly did Heero think of him as?

And what exactly did _he_ think of Heero?

"Hey?" he called out, blinking at the distance between them, only something he noticed now.

The Prince paused in his step, before turning around and closing the expanse between them by a few sure steps.

"Um…" he grinned at Heero, mostly just to make himself feel better and give him something to do as he possibly made a bigger fool of himself.

"Do you… like me?" And he meant platonic, of course, it would be impossible for him to hope for more (he wanted to hope for more?), like was pushing it as it was. He just… wanted to be reassured, somehow, that Heero didn't hate him, that he wasn't akin to a fly – or perhaps, in Heero's case, a servant – in Heero's eyes.

"I mean…" the smile changed slightly, until he wasn't sure just what it was, "you don't… _hate_ me, right?"

The prince took another step forward, eyes somehow a little more blue than he remembered them being before. He held out a hand, as if to clasp Duo's shoulder – then he drew back, looking almost, Duo thought (hoped?) sorrowful. Heero glanced at the floor, fringe obscuring Duo's view of his eyes, and when he looked up, his face was carefully blank.

Then their eyes met, and Duo thought he saw a tiny sparkle hovering in the back of still cobalt eyes.

And a small smile appeared on his lips. Hesitant, careful, almost a little unsure… like someone remembering how to play a tune from a long time ago… and when it finally hit Duo, the full impact of the expression hovering on Heero's lips… he thought it was so beautiful that he had to teach himself how to breathe all over again.

"Baka," the Prince said lowly, "of course I don't hate you."

Before Duo could blink he had turned around and resumed walking. But it was enough, because Duo had already frozen a watercolour painting of that smile, of that look on Heero's face, and it was going to be enough to get him through the rest of this.

He hurried forward for the few steps needed to put him in line with Heero, and rested his arm on the dark haired man's shoulder. Opening his mouth, he started to chatter about something, but later, he couldn't remember anything but the fact that Heero hadn't tried to push him away.

o-o-o-o

It had been so long since _anyone_ had called him using 'hey'.

It was so casual, so straightforward, ringing clearly out of the braided man's mouth, halting him in his steps and causing him to turn around.

It hadn't really been a shock, just a mild startlement, hardly even that. But it had been something different. It had used to be day upon day of listless repetition – at least, before the bard and his friends had burst their way upon castle grounds. Now, from being addressed as 'hey' to having someone dare to _touch_ him again – even his parents, in the resulting days of his curse, had been wary to have any contact with him, especially after what had become of Marie; much less did anyone else in the palace dare to come close to him – not his childhood playmates, not his tutor or the young scholars studying in the palace, like somehow just by touching him they would contract some deathly disease.

But that had been centuries ago, and now… now, he was alone in his palace, with half of those who had avoided him frozen in the golden garden, and the other half buried deep under layers of sand and soil, now nothing but dust and dirt. And now… this bard, and his friends also.

Heero still wasn't sure what to make of their sudden appearance, still wasn't sure why he hadn't ordered them to be forcibly removed, why instead he had given them rooms and specially placed the braided minstrel in a room where he could stand outside his door and watch him sleep as if trying to guard against his bad dreams.

Then again, hadn't he wished for something to change? And now he had it. But the fates were cruel, and he knew that the appearance of the five men could somehow only signal the beginning of something worse… worse than the burden he already had piled upon his shoulders.

He drifted out of his shadowy thoughts to hear the bard's tentative question, an expression he hadn't quite seen before on the man before him – nor anywhere else – hovering upon his face. He had taken a few steps forward without quite registering it, and now they were close enough that Heero could see a few lines of worry flicker across his face.

Heero felt a mild blow as he registered Duo's first question – did he _like_ the bard! – before realising that he wasn't speaking of the same emotion that so many maidens had spoken of before him. When he grasped the second question, however, and the question that put the vaguely disconcerting expression on the other man's face, his words flowed out unchecked by him, and when they were out he found he was quite unable to gather them back in.

Nor was he able to pull back the smile that had flitted across his face as he looked from the floor to meet with violet eyes before speaking.

Unnerved and almost angry with himself for being so damned foolish, he turned away quickly and started walking again, only to have the bard run to catch up with him and _touch_ him yet again.

He admired the easy way the bard could use human contact, the way he had stepped forward so effortlessly to put his arm on Heero's shoulder, his finger's brushing Heero's tunic. He _knew_ that this could only end badly, that this sort of closeness with another would only bring him more trouble, even, maybe, pain.

But the smile on Duo's face was so bright, and he was so alive and brimming with light, that Heero couldn't quite find the energy to make him move away.

Maybe Heero just didn't _want_ him to move away.

Heero grit his teeth with fury at another purely idiotic thought. 'He'll leave,' Heero thought, darkly. 'This can't last. Nothing ever lasts, good or evil.'

He breathed slowly.

But if that was true… then there was no harm letting this go on… just for another while or two.

o-o-o-o

There was blood all over his hands, sticky and red. He ran his hand through his grey hair in his agitation and it spread there too, sticking to the strands and clumping together.

It was a disgusting colour, and he hated the feeling of it, spreading across his skin and staining his clothing. He remembered the birth of his bastard son, how the blood had flowed from that bitch's body and streaked the floorboards red… He had made her scrub and scrub, but no matter how much she scratched at the boards or how many times he blinked his eyes, he couldn't erase the colour of blood as it stained his vision.

So he had tumbled out of the house, tearing at his eyes, trying to get the stain of her sin out of his eyes – she had protested, and she had denied it, but he knew, he knew she had been fucking that blond carpenter behind his back like the whore she was, he knew that the crying kicking thing that had come out of her was not his, could never be his…

But he needed to make sure… he needed a brat to make it come true – his wish, his plan, his _destiny_… and he had gone back, and he had made sure that the bitch knew who she had screwed over, and when he had gone back and seen the glint in his princess's eyes he had known that it would all be his in the most perfect of forms and it had been brilliant...

He howled, tearing at his bloodied shirt. He had been so close… then the bastard child had ruined everything all over again… Just like the bitch had done, when she ever dared to screw behind his back…

He licked his lips, tasting the sharp tang of blood and feeling a bruise where the silly girl had tried to stop him.

Please. She had wanted to die…

He took out the knife from the sheath on his belt, and ran a finger across the edge, watching as blood split from the slice and grinning.

The bitch's son would look even prettier than his princess had when he died… because blood hadn't stained her death, but it would be all over, spilling all across the floor, when he gasped for breath and breathed his last…

o-o-o-o

She was the embodiment of light, and as she peered over the edge into the pool of shimmering liquid and giggled, flickers of gold and yellow danced out of her fingers.

"Do you think we should do something to stop him?" the one with the sky in the palm of her hand asked, looking vaguely worried.

"He does look rather dangerous," fire red said, though she couldn't stop the grin of amusement from crossing her ethereal face.

She giggled again. "Nay… don't even worry, my darlings… I'm sure they can handle it…" She danced away from the edge of the pool and the image of the crazy man, flicking sparks of light out at Sky.

They played for a moment, mixing colour and light, before she paused, smiling gently. "It's all working out fine, I think. Yes… it's all working out fine. Just… maybe one little visit to our pretty musician, to remind him of the beauty of his lover… yes?"

And she flicked out a picture of a harp, painting it with her fingertips, and laughing merrily.

**TBC**

A/N: Taking a brief break from angsty Heero. I wanted to give him (and me!) a break, it's really exhausting to be dark and gloomy all the time… Plus, with Duo around he (and I) have kind of forgotten why he's meant to be depressed…! Ah, he'll be back double full force next chapter, have no fear! (We just have to kick things up a notch… and I'll psych myself into a really dark mood before starting to write… angst fics, here I come!)

_Thanks_: **Kimiki** for the beta as always, and all those who read and reviewed and made me feel so happy and encouraged to write more. You guys are great! Hugs to: **creaturesmint** (I'm glad you enjoyed!), **ahanchan** (thanks!), **Ink2** (yes, the whole Heero turning things to gold in a certain way has troubled me too! But I hope you can enjoy the fic despite that?), **InfectedLife** (you're too kind, really, but it made me smile anyway!), **Tanya6** (Sorry I made you wait so long... glad it's interesting you!), **Natasha AKA Tash** (Duo and Heero moments... there was one, right? They'll get there eventually!) , **Yasei**** Raiden** (so glad you've stuck with this fic from the beginning! Keep reading, ne!), **TKM** (thank you, I'm so glad you like), **jess-eklom** (it's something to do with Heero's curse. If I'm any good at plot-writing, it should become clear, and if it doesn't.. feel free to yell at me!), **Pegasi51** (Heero's on the way to letting Duo in... we hope!), **Mineko**** Yuy** (I hope you like this chapter too... hmm, not everything is wonderful yet though!), **Onee-sama** (3x4 all the way! I hope I can do them justice!), **BrokenChains** (Hei Hay all right! And I love Trowa and Quatre too...), **ZaKai** (I'm sorry this took so long! Hope you liked this chapter too), **Amy** **Hirosaki** (another chapter again! I hope you feel kindly to 6x5 as well!), and **indigorhapsody** (I did try not to rush their relationships, so hopefullythey'll come out okay.. And I hopeI didn't make you wait too long). THANK YOU ALL!

And another note: I know I said I'd try updating faster, and that hasn't seemed to have happened... but I am trying, and thanks for hanging in there with me!


	10. ennea

**Chapter Nine**

Quatre hovered near Trowa, who was staring blankly out of a window, and bit his lip nervously. He hated this! Oh, how he really, really detested this. This awkwardness, their stilted conversation, the way either of them jumped a mile whenever the other accidentally came closer… it was like an invisible wall had sprung up between them without him noticing. And now that he had, it was too late to stop its decent upwards.

His tooth dug harder into his lip. He opened his mouth, racking his mind for something to say. "So, Duo," he ended up blurting out.

Trowa turned around slowly. "Duo?"

Quatre nodded, a little too fervently, he thought. "Yes, Duo. Do… do you think he's alright?"

Trowa turned back around, once again turning his face away from Quatre. Quatre, his _best_ friend since _forever_. "If you're worried about Duo, you should just go look for him instead of staying here and worrying."

"I…" Quatre ducked his head, steeled his resolve, and took a big step forward, tugging on Trowa's shoulder. The feel of Trowa underneath his palm helped him to go on instead of leaving the room and leaving things as they were. It was something tangible, skin warm to the touch and familiar. The startled look Trowa wore as he turned around again was an expression Quatre had seen before, numerous times.

Trowa, at age five, blinking when Quatre had tried to share toys and play together.

Trowa, at age nine, when Quatre had shouted, for the very first time, at an arrogant older boy who had called Trowa mute.

Trowa, at age eleven, when his parents had died and Quatre had hugged him and told him to let himself cry.

Trowa, at age fifteen, when Quatre had held his hand for no reason but the fact that he wanted too, and Trowa's hands were always warm.

Trowa, two days ago. When he had woken up to Quatre looking at him, finding them both intertwined so tightly that it was hard to breathe. But Quatre hadn't cared, because it was Trowa and him, and he didn't really think that Trowa had minded – not until comprehension had caught up to him.

So many memories came slamming into him, none of them exactly the same, but all of them special, little fragments of time that he would keep and treasure and play in his head when it was dark and night-time and he felt alone.

Quatre peeked into Trowa's green eyes, and knew that he was a fool. A coward, and a fool. Never once had he let himself think about them, think about the fact that he had stopped looking upon Trowa as merely a friend – even a best friend – years ago. Think about the little looks he would dart at Trowa when he didn't think anyone was looking, about the looks that he thought – he hoped – Trowa would send his way when Quatre appeared to be distracted by other things.

Because it was easier that way, easier to leave things as they were, to let some things remain unspoken and simply relish the fact that they had each other.

Quatre hadn't thought that it would turn into this, that it could slowly rust away at their friendship and rip them further and further apart without their knowing.

He was a fool, and it was time to fix it, or break it, once and for all.

"Trowa," he started, not knowing what he was going to say, but not letting go of the hold he had on Trowa's shoulder, the tangible link that reminded him exactly what it was that he wanted. "Trowa…"

Trowa was still looking at him, green eyes questioning and almost worried.

The words were half out of his mouth when a piercing shriek made his blood run colder than death.

"This way," Trowa said, leaping out of his seat and grabbing onto Quatre's wrist, pulling him along as he ran out the door.

But although Quatre felt himself following Trowa's lead, his limbs felt completely numb, and a piercing pain was shooting through his chest and clenching around his heart. His legs gave way, and he crumbled to the ground.

With Trowa's eyes hovering above him, never having looked so fearful before, and the deathly scream still resounding in his ears, Quatre could only reproach himself as he fell into darkness.

---

Duo chuckled as he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the rather poorly drawn picture inked onto the page before him. As he kept looking at it, the chuckle grew and warped until the laughter was bubbling out from him and he simply couldn't stop, hugging his stomach and gasping for breath.

The Prince was glancing over in his direction, a scowl etched onto his face. But as Duo fell from his chair and, quite literally, rolled around the plush carpeting of the Palace Library, a little part of the bard jumped with glee as he noted the tiniest upward tilt of Heero's lips.

With his belly truly aching by then, and his hair starting to fall from its usually neat braid, he felt the laughter slowly subside, and he stood up again. Grabbing the book from the table and carefully averting his eyes – for he knew he would simply start laughing again, which wouldn't quite do for now – he dropped the book over the one Heero was reading, and jabbed a finger enthusiastically at it. "Here," he grinned, eyes sparkling. "Here, Heero, look right there."

The Prince looked down, but his lips remained firmly set in a line upon viewing it. "It's not _that_ funny," he commented dryly.

"Really?" Duo asked, still giggling and not at all convinced. "Look, Heero, in case you couldn't recognise yourself… that is _you_!" He darted a glace at the other man, who had pushed the velvet-covered book away and stubbornly continued on with his other one. "Heero, you didn't _look_ at it! Look!" And he placed both hands on Heero's head and tilted it downwards, holding it there. (And the tiniest thrill ran through him when his hands slid through soft hair and Heero didn't shout at him for touching him.)

Forced to stare at the drawing, Duo watched until slowly, Heero's features shifted until a subtle mix of disgust, horror, disbelief and amusement was revealed for just a moment. It quickly disappeared, but Duo had caught it, and was unable to believe just how accurate the one in his imagination had been.

"I still don't think it's funny enough to roll around on the floor," Heero said, obviously disapproving. Duo didn't particularly mind. He had seen the look that shot across the dark-haired man's face.

"Yeah, but as I looked at it I was imaging _that_ look on your face. And it became _that_ funny." Duo ruffled Heero's hair, and darted away quickly when the prince whipped around, grinning at the agitated expression on the other man's face.

He looked down at the page again as he sat back down on his chair. Sketched onto it was a picture of a man, with sticks for arms and legs, and a crown that marked him as a prince, or rather, Prince Heero of Hei. He was swathed in numerous robes, and was obviously (made clear in a very obscene way) copulating with another person, identified as a girl who was supposed to be attractive by long, long hair and eyelashes that were the size of her head. They were in a bubble, suspended in the air over an opulent castle that did not look anything like the one Duo was sitting inside. Gold pieces trickled from the sky around them, and tiny musical notes were drawn emanating from the bubble.

Duo chuckled again, and flipped the page, only to be greeted with another picture. "Hey, Heero?"

"What?" He didn't even look up from the pages of his book.

"Was she not to your liking?"

Heero narrowed his eyes at Duo. "That is obviously meant to be a mockery of me, drawn by someone with absolutely no idea of the situation."

"Yeah, yeah. But… could this be more to your liking?" Duo almost felt nervous, though he wasn't very sure why, as he held up the picture that was on the next page of the velvet book that had no title.

It was much more artistically rendered that the first, with an almost accurate drawing of the Prince. Except that this time, he was embracing another male, also drawn to be attractive, with soft hair curling around his face. Their lips were touching, gentle shading conveyed that something out of the ordinary was happening, and the Prince's palms were glowing from their position on the wall behind his lover.

Heero's eyes took in the picture before he looked back down, rather quickly, Duo thought. "I don't know, Duo. What are you asking?"

"Do… do you think this picture could be more accurate than the other one. In terms of… your partner, I mean."

"I can honestly tell you that I wouldn't know."

"Oh." Duo fidgeted uneasily

Heero's voice was a slight gentler when it reached Duo's ears. "I've never really thought about it, Duo. I'm sorry."

He apologised? For what? But still, it was nice to hear… "Nothing to be sorry about," Duo laughed, somewhat awkwardly. "Just... thought it might be good to know for certain, yanno? So we know better who to break the curse with."

Heero was looking at him, a deep gaze that didn't help to ease his discomfort. "You think it's real, then? All those stories about love being the answer? The tales that the servants whisper to each other without really knowing what they are speaking about… you think they're real?"

"Well, I mean, it's possible…" Duo trailed off, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to say.

"I don't," Heero said bluntly. "I don't think I can fall in love."

Duo's throat was a little tight when he spoke next. "You never know, Heero."

"So…" was he hesitant? "So you _do_ think there is a way to break the curse?"

And Duo definitely had an answer to that. One that he firmly believed in. "Yes."

"Aa," Heero answered, looking down at his book again. But there was a different set to his shoulders, one that made Duo smile a little. He knew Heero had thought him foolish, to think that he could be the one to find the answer to the curse after so many years had passed with no one before him succeeding. But Duo was certain that it was simply the fact that Heero had long since given up trying to find a way. And persistence was something that Duo could achieve when he really, really wanted to. After all, he had been so awful when he first started picking out tunes on the lute he could barely listen to himself practise. But the lute had been so beautiful, and the sounds that it could produce under skilled fingers had completely won him over, so he had persevered. And it had obviously paid off, as he now fancied himself pretty damn good.

So maybe the Palace Library didn't have a book titled 'How to Break the Curse'. That didn't mean that there wasn't something written in one of these many books that could set them on the right track. There was a wealth of knowledge here: an encyclopaedia on curses of various kinds, a record of sorcerers in the Kingdom of Hei dating back hundreds of years, and of course, numerous books with handwritten notes and observations on anything under the sky. Quite a number of these were about the curse and the Prince, including the one that Duo was flipping through.

He put it next to him, feeling just a little dejected. It hadn't had another really useful, only holding different interpretations of the curse by various people. The only thing they all seemed to have in common was that another person had to be involved to reverse it. Other than that, they had ranged from frivolous to touching to downright ridiculous.

As he reached for another book, it occurred to the bard that all that he knew about the curse he had heard from people other than Heero. Maybe it was time to ask for the real story, as the Prince had lived it, instead of rumours and hearsay and legends.

But… perhaps Heero would not want to tell him? Perhaps Heero would feel uncomfortable, or perhaps retelling it would hurt him, even if he might not show it.

"You want to know, don't you?" Heero's voice was expressionless, but his face was calm and composed as he looked straight at Duo.

"Huh?"

The dark haired man sighed. "If you want to know, you should just have asked me when you first arrived." His face hardened. "I'm more than used to the insatiable curiosity of people who want to know all about the story of the cursed prince."

Duo sighed. "First of all, I am _not_ just another curious person who wants to see the legend for themselves. And secondly, I thought you said all the servants around here were afraid to speak to you?"

"That is now." Heero closed his book and folded his arms together. "Many years before this, before people realised what exactly I could do to them, there was a period where every day there would be someone who would try to bump into me or trick me into turning something of theirs gold. Then there would be those who would constantly watch my every move, wondering how a mockery of life like me could go on living. People would try to kill me, too, just to see if it was possible to do so."

His face was schooled into a mask of blankness and apathy, but that didn't stop Duo from bounding forward and throwing his arms around stiff shoulders. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into the curve of Heero's neck and shoulder. "I'm sorry you had to bear that."

"I learnt very quickly not to care," Heero told him in reply. Duo leant backwards to look at his face, but not before he caught a lock of dark-brown hair between his fingers and marvelled at the texture. He let go quickly, hoping the Prince hadn't noticed, and nothing in his expression seemed to say otherwise.

"Hey, Heero? If… we find a way to reverse the curse… will you still be… immortal?" The thought that finding a way to reverse the curse might only end up to be the thing that would bring about Heero's demise sent a chill through Duo.

Heero looked at Duo, the depth of his eyes making Duo feel somewhat shaky. "I don't know, Duo."

"Oh." Oh, skies! Duo stared unseeingly at the page before him, then gripped the edge and turned the page a little too harshly. What did that mean? What was he meant to do? Keep looking for a way to cure – and kill! – Heero? He… he couldn't do that!

"Does it really matter?" Heero looked completely expressionless, apart from the way his blue eyes seemed to be saying something to Duo that he couldn't quite fathom, but so very much wanted to.

Duo paused, then the words ripped themselves from his chest. "Yes! Yes it does, Heero!" He pushed himself away from the table, away from the books, away from anything to do with the curse. "How can you…!" He turned away, choking, and sprinted from the library, and from the blue-eyed prince that sat inside it, not knowing why, but only that he couldn't sit there and feel that gaze any longer.

---

After Duo stumbled out of the room and into the endless labyrinth that was the palace hallways, he slowed to a jog, feeling a sting at his eyes. He held a hand on the wall, dragging it along, desperate for something tangible to convince him that _he_ was real.

He felt a vague shadow of the past hovering over him and colouring him; he remembered feeling this same way when Bard Maxwell had died and suddenly Duo had realised that he didn't know what he was supposed to do at all. And he had felt adrift, lost and submerged in something much too big for him to handle alone. And he had always dreaded being alone, even when he was young, even when he wanted to travel the world, even when he had wanted to run from his first life and his family and everything that he hadn't wanted… he hadn't wanted to be alone.

And maybe that was why he always seemed to be comforted by the weight of his lute on his back – because it was a reminder that he _wasn't_ alone, and he would forever carry a memory of the man that had been most important to him, and that with music, he would never have to face life without anything to guide him.

But now his back was light, empty of the weight that had come to symbolise so much of him, and without that comforting presence he felt utterly lost in every possible way.

A flash of blue eyes and a hint of a smile hovering on sullen lips made him pause, and he wrapped his arms around himself, sinking down onto the ground.

Lost, indeed.

And there was a persistent pounding in his head, a steady thump thump thump echoing around and around, a throbbing that _hurt_ and made him relive strange images that confused him. And something else, that also hurt, hurt more than the physical pain that he could deal with more easily.

Duo leant his head back against the wall, closing his eyes and willing himself to clear out his mind. Because there were so many things whirling around his head, worries about Quatre and Trowa and Wufei and Zechs, fears about how he was going to leave the palace, thoughts on how to break the curse, wondering if he wanted the curse to be broken, helping Heero, thinking about Heero. And the mess of images that came to him unbidden, made him wonder if they were dreams or some abstract form of reality. The images threaded into the palate of colours that _was_ the prince, making him feel warm inside and itch to reach out to the face embedded behind his eyelids and demand for something he _knew_ he wanted…

The warmth gathering around him made him feel like he was sinking deeper, into the wall and into the carpet and into a place that felt…

A place that felt like…

Home.

---

It was stunningly beautiful, a palate of colours the embodiment of everything lovely in life, all melting into one and sinking into him, and he couldn't stop smiling and it was because he was _happy_, he was _happy_ like he couldn't remember ever being before, colour and light and sound and sight and he looked up…

And there was a hand there, a lovely hand and he knew it was reaching out to him, and willingly he reached out and he took it…

And then they were running along, sweet smell of grass and sound of his favourite melody dancing in the air, fingers intertwined and that was where he was meant to be…

And they collapsed into a pile of limbs onto damp grass, and he looked up, smiling, because this was the person that made him remember the meaning of joy…

And he darted down quickly, placing a kiss onto Duo's forehead and smiling gently at him, and Duo looked up at the face that made his heart flush with happiness, and he glanced down at their palms, pressed against each other, and looked back up, gazing into the deepest, most beautiful shade of blue and saw love reflected in them…

Love…

Lover…

Love you…

And he was being ripped away, a scream of horror tearing its way out of his throat, feeling everything that he had shatter into nothing as he reached out, grappling for the hand outstretched for him, but he was too far away now…

Love you…!

And the memory of blue eyes that were being swallowed by the terrifying darkness as the scream swallowed him whole until he was nothing…

No!

Blue eyes, and the knowledge… I love you…

And Duo shattered into dust.

---

Heero still didn't know why, after the braided brunet had vanished out of the library, he had felt so inclined to stand and follow him out. He wasn't worried, because he didn't care about the bard. Perhaps it was morbid curiosity about someone so very different from him, someone who felt so much more keenly than he did, than he had ever felt, someone who cared about Heero more than Heero cared about himself.

Perhaps Duo was so filled with life that he found it difficult to deal with death and lack of existence, of dispersing into nothing. But Heero had lived a life of nothingness for centuries now, and for all that time, the thought of it all ending and himself blurring into nonexistence had never troubled him.

In the earlier days, long before anyone had tried to play with his immortality, he had done so himself. Picking up daggers and watching as they shimmered gold before attempting to slice open veins and arteries in hopes that brilliant red blood would pour out. Fixing lengths of rope to the ceiling and wrapping the threads of gold around his neck. Swallowing tablet after tablet of shimmering gold, drinking poison from a goblet of gold. Giving up on the hope of creating pretty scars on his wrist and simply trying to force the dagger into his gut, into his neck, into his throat.

He could still remember the look on his mother's face when she had walked in, face worn and hair tinted with grey, and him with never-ending youth the only thing etched into his skin, as she saw him doggedly trying to work the golden blade into his stomach.

But as they all soon realized, nothing gold could ever possibly hurt him. The golden blade would not harm his skin, the poison from the golden goblet did nothing, the tablets of gold were useless, the rope of gold disintegrated when he attempted to hand himself by it. And the curse enhanced his body, so when he flung himself from the uppermost window and landed upon the ground, though he ached, he was still alive after a jump that the gods couldn't have survived. Trying to fling himself against shards of glass without ever touching his palms to them did nothing. Impaling himself against sword-tips made them bend. He had watched carefully as the sorcerers flung balls of fire at each other and positioned himself in the middle too quickly for anyone to stop him, the fire only vanished upon contact with his skin.

Yes, Heero could quite truthfully state that he had encountered every possible form of death known to man, and still proclaim himself alive – as alive as he was, at any rate.

And it had killed his mother, he knew. He had seen the horror in her eyes as she witnessed his self-destructive tendencies, attempting to saw into flesh and bone and devouring drug after drug. And he also knew that she had never completely registered his immortality, never stopped watching him, never stopped worrying that one day he would succeed in killing himself.

So he had not been shocked when she had beckoned him to come closer to her, as she lay on her bed, breathing shallowly and close to death, and pleaded to him, "Heero, stop. Live."

And she had made him promise, made him promise to stop trying to find a way to end his life, made him promise to choose living over death. And he had promised, because he had known by that time that there was nothing that could possibly kill him. But he had wondered at his mother, because she had always loved life, and she had always tried to smile, and he remembered her during his childhood, as she glowed and held his hands and made him dance with her. She had always cared about life… and yet, she couldn't see that his living that ripped away the lives of so many others, the testament to that being the wretched garden in his palace.

But now… now, there seemed to be another way he could achieve that nothingness… that through the breaking of the curse, he would simply diminish into nothing.

Was that still what he wanted most?

Heero looked down at the body of Duo, watched as his fingers moved slightly, as if reaching out for something. He brushed his own fingers together thoughtfully, trying to remember how if felt to link hands with another. It had been rare even before, but now… it had been so long since had felt the texture of soft skin, traced the features of another's face with his fingertips, placed his hand against another, palm to palm.

He jerked himself out of thought and looked back at the minstrel. He had followed him quietly, catching up easily but maintaining a distance to see where he was going. For no particular reason, of course. Because Heero didn't really care. It was just a distraction, something else to occupy his endless supply of days with. And so he had followed, and watched, and the other man stumbled along the hall almost painfully, touching a hand against the wall as he took step after step… until at last he came to a halt, falling down and closing his eyes, growing still.

Until Heero wondered if he was still breathing, and came closer, hovering above him, noting the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the slight smile flickering on his lips… then they had parted, almost in horror, and his fingers had started twitching.

It had been some time now, and Duo was showing no signs of being about to awake. It had seemed okay at first, but now his movements were becoming distinctly more troubled, jerking back and forth, eyes squeezed tightly shut, harsh breathing surfacing from open lips. Heero was beginning to feel uneasy. Not because he cared about the man particularly much, but simply that he seemed to be more capable of breaking the curse and freeing Heero than anyone in the past. Not because he was the only one in so long who had made Heero want to smile. Not because he was the only one in so long who had dared to come close, to touch him…

And Duo's body was moving around wretchedly, his head flinging against the wall with unnerving force, mouth twisted in terror, and Heero was beginning to feel… worried? Never had he felt so helpless, never in such a long time had he ever wanted so much to _do_ something. Because Duo looked awful, and… and if the bard died Heero knew his friends would make the utmost trouble.

Because Duo… needed to be okay.

Heero leaned closer, hovering in front of Duo's face, trying to _will_ the other man into wakefulness, keeping his hands carefully behind his back. "Duo," he growled into his ear.

Violet eyes snapped open so suddenly Heero was somewhat startled. "Heero?" Duo whispered, voice scratchy and scared. Then his eyes widened, and before Heero could process thought, Duo's arms had reached out and wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling Heero downwards into a warm embrace.

"Heero…" Duo mumbled into his neck, face buried in hiding. "Heero…" There was something in his voice, some underlying importance that the prince wished he understood. But Duo wasn't letting go, or looking up, or moving in anyway except for the rise and fall of his shoulders and he breathed.

And there was something Heero realized, knowledge from long ago, about the look in those eyes as they first opened. He didn't let himself think too much about it, not sure if he wanted to know what exactly had occurred to him, much preferring to leave it in its hazy, dim cloaking.

But he didn't pull away, feeling puffs of warm air against his neck, as Duo moved slightly to better fit into the curves of his body.

And somehow, being wrapped in a proper embrace and sharing the warmth of another made Heero remember, vaguely, what it meant to be human again.

_**TBC**_

_NB:_ The castle walls are all gold already, so nothing happens to them if Heero touches them.

_NB 2:_ Just a reminder - I write using English spelling. Kimiki's excellent at spotting the words with different spelling, but it's easier for me to leave them be (ahem – lazy me), as that's the way I spell things when I first write the chapters. So apologies if that bothers anyone! If you notice an extra 'u' (e.g. colo**u**r) or an 's' instead of a 'z' (e.g. reali**s**e) – that's just the English spelling in me, and just ignore it.

_**Thanks to:**_

**Kimiki** for being such a great beta. Thank youuu!

Anyone reading and who **reviewed**, especially if you've stuck by this fic and kept reading. It means so much to me, and you guys are the greatest.I'm terribly sorry for always taking such a long time to update. Life does get in the way, but I _DO_ try!

**Hoshiko-Malfoy**: Thanks! I'm glad you like... If Heero touches Duo with his _palms_, Duo will change to gold. If they touch in any other way – no. (grin) And Duo just touching/kissing Heero will not prevent him from being turned gold if Heero _does_ touch him later. The curse is more complicated than that, as will be revealed in later chapters (hopefully, if I make any sense as a writer.)  
**Mineko Hon**: Mystical indeed. I _did_ try! It's fun to write. Yup, you're right, dangerous stuff coming up…  
**red** **phoniex**: thanks for reading! I'll email you just as soon as I post this chapter.  
**Sujang Chunsa-sama**: I'm so glad you're enjoying it!  
**Ink2**: Duo had family problems of his own, but I sort of glossed over that... Actually, thinking about that, all the boys have family issues in this…! Anyhow, here's an update, and I'm happy you're still reading!  
**Kalorna Enera**: thanks for reviewing! Glad you liked.  
**InfectedLife**: Thanks for such a lovely review. Sorry for making you wait, and I hope you like this chapter too! You like my Heero? (beams) That makes me so happy, I _always_ worry about characterization...  
**I miss the Rain**: I don't like the crazy man either... but I decided he was necessary. Did you get your answers here? (hopeful)  
**Yasei Raiden:** Update for you! I hope you like... and you'll be glad to know this wasn't delayed because I psyched myself up to be depressed... Went away on holiday instead. (sweatdrop) Thanks for the kickass review! (grin)  
**ZaKai**: Sorry this took so long... hope this is worth it! Thanks for reading!  
**ahanchan**: was this angst? XD thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this one...  
**Qualmi-chan**: I don't think this update is soon... but it's here at last!  
**Lost-Remembrance**: Updated! And I promise I will continue to do so till the very end...  
**creaturesmint**: thank you! Duo will always get Heero in the end… (yeah!)


	11. deca

Chapter Ten _deca_

When Zechs awoke, tender, gentle memories shrouded in the night of yesterday came floating back to him. 'Fei, looking up at him with lovely dark eyes, hair falling into his face, leaning closer and bringing their lips into a kiss, tongues sliding against each other, falling backwards onto the bed and removing any space between them, touching and holding and kissing and watching through lidded eyes, listening to the sound of their heavy breaths mingling in the cool air of the room. Feeling his skin burn, feeling his heart tattoo the name of the smaller man into his soul as they slid closer and closer into each other… until at last, sinking into sleep, knowing that they would never be two separate entities again as their hands and their legs curled together.

He hadn't known it was possible to become so ecstatically happy in such a minimal amount of time. It would have seemed fast, but for the fact that it was _them_, that this had been in the making for so very many years now, and that, for all the thinking and hoping and worrying, it was the most startlingly easy curve from friends into lovers.

A smile split his lips, and eyes still lidded, he reached across to bring the comforting weight of Wufei against him.

But the moment his hand met with air and the absence of Wufei, something caught in his throat and he knew, he _knew_, that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

---

This bard… Heero studied the thick braid of hair, noting the stray strands of hair that had escaped being bound and the subtle shades of brown running through the hair. Light was reflecting off it in the most agreeable way, and it looked extremely soft. Touchable.

Heero frowned slightly. Admiring the man's hair was certainly not acceptable… and he refused to entertain the notion that he was only using that as a distraction to prevent himself thinking about the fact that they had been sitting there, with the other man's arms locked firmly around him and his chin tucked into the curve of Heero's shoulder, for an extremely long time.

And Heero hadn't yet been able to get himself to move away.

It was certainly most inappropriate, but… This bard was certainly unlike anyone Heero had ever known before. Which made him rather… fascinating.

It occurred to Heero, an abstract thought, that he had never even heard the man play. Not properly, not… not for Heero. And he thought that maybe he should ask – demand – that he do so. He had his friends _were_ boarding in Heero's castle, eating his food and breathing his air…

Duo sighed, gently, an exhalation of air that seemed to be speaking to Heero, that made something dead and buried inside him start to echo. It was a somewhat unsettling feeling, and he felt himself tense somewhat.

The hardening of his shoulders seemed to shake Duo out of his dreamy state, because he finally drew back, taking with him a warmth that Heero almost thought he could get used to.

When the bard had leant back far enough to meet Heero's eyes, he grinned somewhat apologetically. Shaking his head, Duo said, "Thanks, Heero. I had a… strange dream there. Didn't even feel like a dream. It was lit a… surreal, out of body experience." He chuckled. "Sometimes I really think I'm losing my mind."

Heero wasn't sure what to say, settling instead for standing up so he was looking down at Duo.

The other man was holding a strange expression on his face as he looked upwards at Heero. It was almost troubled, his eyes flicking over Heero's face without seeming to absorb anything. Heero was about to call out his name, when Duo's lips parted.

"Your eyes…" he whispered, wonderingly.

---

Duo felt a strange coldness run through him as he the slow realization crept through his skin.

It was impossible to deny it, he almost felt foolish for not having made the realization before. Those dreams, the ones that he had never let himself dwell upon for long, the ones where he felt safe and warm and… _loved_ like nothing he had ever known in everyday life… The person in the dreams who had brought about those feelings in him, the person who's eyes he drowned in whenever the dreams fell upon him, blue, blue eyes…

Heero's eyes…

He watched as Heero's eyes, the _dream lover's_ eyes, narrowed slightly, and wondered if he might have spoken out loud.

Oh, skies. Even thinking about the person in the dream sent chills running through his blood. It had been worse, this time, this dream crueler than ever before because the joy had been so painfully acute, whispering in every nerve in his body, and then only to have it ripped away more quickly and harshly than ever.

He remembered the feeling – _not quite pain, it hadn't been pain, not physical but mental and otherworldly and something _more_ than anything _– the rawness, the _somuchtoomuch_! as he fell.

He held the intensity of shattering into dust still, somewhere lodged deep inside him, something that was so much that it made him want to wrap his hands around his waist and hide forever from the world

Heero was still hovering over him, blue eyes bluer than ever and making Duo remember the better parts of the dreams, the gazing and loving and touching, drawing out feelings much easier to deal with, and more embarrassing. He focused on the tinted gold walls, dragging himself out of the hazy, unreal world he had hovered in. Reality was now, and reality was what needed taking care of.

"I'm fine, Heero." He grinned and pushed himself up, brushing off the back of his pants. "So… what were we doing?"

"You ran out," Heero said, in a tone that might have been accusatory if it hadn't been flat.

"Oh… yeah," Duo chuckled, flipping back his bangs and trying not to tense up. It had really bruised something inside him when Heero spoke uncaringly about his possible death.

Duo supposed that now – _blue eyes, the realization of blue eyes and love and holding hands_ – he knew why.

He couldn't quite meet Heero's eyes, but his mouth came to his aid. "Well, before that, you were going to tell me the true story of the curse, weren't you?" He winced, belatedly, thinking that maybe his overly large mouth _wasn't_ particularly on his side after all.

"Okay," Heero said, face unreadable. "If you think you want to know, I'll tell you."

And then they were walking slowly through the halls of the castle, Heero starting to speak and Duo listening to his deep, almost but not quite emotionless voice, glancing out the corner of his eyes at the prince's hands clasped behind his back and unable and unwanting to push away the memory of fingers twined together.

--

Wufei had woken up curled into the warmth of another body, and coloured as soon as the night's memories greeted him clothed in the light of the morning sunrise.

Zechs, and him, and the almost unholy happiness that had entered him and never left, not even when he had fell into peaceful sleep feeling closer to Zechs than ever before.

It had been so wonderful, _this_ was all so wonderful, and he could scarcely believe it but for the very evidence of the blond man lying next to him at that very moment.

He was grinning, and he thought that maybe he should feel ashamed, but he couldn't because he was so happy. Because it was Zechs, and the person he had looked up to and loved for all of his life.

And now this was so close to perfect he could barely breathe.

The door creaked open, startling him. "Scum…" came the whisper, twisted and laced with hatred, and Wufei felt fear start to eat away at the joy that had been embedded inside him.

He knew he had been right to feel trepidation as soon as the blood covered man stepped into the room, into _their_ space, gripping a knife all gleaming metal and deep red blood. "Treacherous, evil _scum_!" he hissed, eyes red and glassy, hair plastered to his face also dripping sanguine.

Wufei's throat went dry and he wanted so much to fling himself over Zechs and keep him protected from the ghastliness of that person that called himself Zechs' father. The horror of seeing that blood splattered man after the ethereal beauty of the night before was fading, and now instinct and adrenaline was rushing through him, calling for him to reach for his sword and stop this man once and for all.

That much blood… that much blood can only mean death, he noted, trying to keep it abstract and not something that would eat away at him and cause him distraction.

The man was grinning now, coming very slowly closer and closer, chilling Wufei's blood and triggering him to _move_, damnit!

But all he had on was an overly large tunic, and his sword was resting by the door. Chastising himself for his utter stupidity, he bounded upwards and took hold of the twin blades that were always resting on the nearby table, unsheathing them and gripping them tightly.

"Get _back_!" he growled, regretting not flinging Zechs awake when he had still been close enough to do so. His mind comforted him almost immediately: Zechs was a light sleeper, Zechs was a good fighter, Zechs would wake up and together they would make sure that this clearly insane man was taken care of.

Or even better, Wufei would get him under control before Zechs awoke, and save him from any further heartache over this soulless madman.

The knife blade shimmered as the crazed man took a step closer. Funny how things could get so awful so quickly, Wufei considered, as he sprang forward, dodging the swinging arc of the blade, trying to maneuver both himself and the blood drenched man so that they were away from Zechs. He just needed to make the other man lose that blade, and knock him out so Wufei could tie him up.

It shouldn't be too difficult – Wufei could see that even as the man lunged again, clumsily, and Wufei evaded it with little trouble. The twin blades were comforting weights in his hands, even though they weren't his preferred form of weapon. He doubted he would need them at all, a plan to disarm the other man already taking shape in his mind.

All Wufei would need to do was get behind the man, next time he tried to lunge forward again. The knife was sharp but the man was slow, and obviously out of his mind. Victory took place in the head, and not with the blade… From behind he could knock him out, lucky the room was big…

The man moved – Wufei was ready, feet darting across the floor nimbly, the other man teetering with the force of the swing. Gripping the hilt of his blade, he brought it downwards with sufficient force, aiming for the part of the back of the head he knew would work best – a crude move, but one that would be effective enough…

Then the man hissed something, and he couldn't move. Arm suspended in the air, eyes forced to watch as the bloody visage of the man turned around to sneer at him. Dread washing over him, Wufei tried to wrestle with his own body to move, to do _something_, but he was frozen.

He was suddenly aware of the hot stickiness of blood upon his forehead, dripping down slowly to fall across his eyes, and realized that it must have been transferred onto him with the swinging of the knife blade. It was _hot_, really, really _hot_, leaving a strange prickle, an ache, that started where the blood was touching him and spread to every single part of the body.

Wufei remembered the first time he had cut his finger, remembered the story his father had told him about the power of blood, of _innocent_ blood, of the way that blood could be used – _blood majick_, it was only ever whispered, never spoken aloud – the terrifying knowledge that the blood that meant life, could also bring…

Death.

And then Wufei would have berated himself for his foolishness up to that point, but he was too busy staring at the twisted smile on the bloody man's face, and wondering how anyone as wonderful as Zechs could have come from such a monster as this.

--

When Quatre's eyes opened, he felt like he had dreamt something, _seen_ something of utmost importance, but the throbbing in his temples had driven it away and meant that he couldn't even attempt to try to remember.

Next he took in the fact that his head was being cradled on Trowa's lap as the green-eyed man hovered anxiously over him.

"Trowa," he muttered, bringing up his hand to rest against his forehead.

Then the echo of the deathly scream resounded through his mind and he choked. "Trowa! The scream, the girl… something happened, what was it? Trowa? Trowa!"

A hand was clamped firmly, gently, across his mouth. "Hush," Trowa told him, quietly. "Anyone that could have screamed like that… is no longer around. Better that we worry about those who are. Like you."

Quatre wrapped his fingers around Trowa's hands, pulling determinedly. There was a sick feeling in his chest, a thickness at the back of his throat, a pounding behind his eyes. He gritted his teeth angrily – angry at himself, angry at Trowa, angry… at whatever it was that had made someone scream like that… like their soul had been burnt to ash before their eyes.

"Trowa," he uttered insistently, trying not to scream himself. There was something in his chest, something that _hurt_, something battling to get out. But he knew, he _knew_ that if he let it out on _Trowa_ he would never forgive himself.

"Don't move," Trowa told him, and there was something in his friend's voice, something he wasn't sure he had ever heard before. It was enough to convince him against forcing himself up and going to find out exactly what had caused that scream though. He leaned back uneasily. There was definitely something… _wrong_ in the air, a chill darting along his blood.

There was a suspended silence, as if the recollection of the scream was enough noise for them. Then Trowa looked away from him. "I thought you were dead," the brunet said.

Quatre knew that there were definitely more important things to talk about, even thought there was a part of him that protested that there was _nothing_ more important than Trowa.

"I thought you were _dead_," Trowa repeated, finally turning around, eyes tortured and painful and _wet_, voice ripped into shreds, diffusing into threads that smashed into Quatre's chest and wrapped around his heart.

And then Trowa was kissing him, and words were rendered useless, Quatre finally realizing how little they said when compared to –

_This_.

--

Duo couldn't bring his eyes away from the regal lines of the prince's body, but when the dusky image of – _kissingtouchingholdingloving_ – his dream flitted across his mind, he blinked, wincing inwardly and focusing on listening to the soothing bass voice instead.

"I suppose it started all when I was a baby. There had been a sorcerer, one who had held a grudge against the royal family for quite some time. Of course, there will always be those who seek to overthrow royalty, and so precautions have always been around – protection spells, and such.

"However, during the time between the birth of a baby to its second birthday, sorcerers were unable to place such spells on a child in a chance that it may have latent magic power that such spells of protection could interfere with."

"And that was the time you were cursed?" Heero nodded, and Duo shook his head. How terrible, to curse a mere _babe_ with something so awful, an infant completely innocent of any wrongdoing!

"That's awful!" the bard exclaimed, face growing hot. He had felt something like this when Wufei had first related the story, but now to hear it from Heero, hear it already holding the vague knowledge of the life that Heero had been forced to lead… It was a crime, heinous and terrible!

Heero glanced at him, and the brunet wondered if maybe the prince could read his thoughts from the expression on his face. However, the dark haired man looked away, and continued. "It happened sometime after my first birthday, but no one was ever sure exactly when it occurred. Mother used to think that the sorcerer had somehow managed to gain control over my nursingmaid, but we were never sure." He laughed harshly. "After all, once we had realized of the existence of the curse upon me, we had many other things to worry about."

His hands fisted together as his face went carefully blank, eyes flickering in a way that Duo found almost frightening. "We all only realized what had happened on the morning of my 18th birthday.

"Marie died."

"Ma… rie?" Duo echoed the name cautiously, unsure if this part of the story was something he wanted to hear.

Heero looked at him, and for the merest fraction of a second, Duo saw all the world's sorrow trapped within his blue eyes. "My sister," Heero said.

"She was lovely."

Duo reached up, squeezing Heero's upper arm gently before letting go. "I can imagine." And he could, he really could, all too clearly it was somewhat unnerving – the way his mind clicked, the way it provided him with the image of a girl tossing her light brown hair as she laughed upwards at her big brother before embracing him tightly.

"I killed her," Heero said then, voice so clear and blasé that it almost broke Duo's heart.

"No." He reached forward, pulling the prince's chin and forcing their gazes to meet. "No, you didn't. The sorcerer who cursed you – he killed her."

Heero jerked his face away, head held still and unmoving. But his fists had gone pale, there was a mild tremble vibrating through his body, and when Duo moved around to face him, he saw cobalt eyes that were shinier and blanker than usual.

"You didn't kill her, Heero."

His hands reached out, the prince stepped aside guardedly, and Duo, ever the fool, somehow managed to lose his balance and fall towards the wall – or rather, into the intricate woven pattern hanging on the wall.

Into it.

Where his palms should have hit cold stone wall covered by a layer of shining thread, he fell through thin air. As he fell through what should have been solid, it shimmered and disappeared. Sprawled, dazed, on the floor, Duo turned to stare up at Heero, almost accusatorily.

"What was _that_?"

Well, at least the prince wasn't wearing that heartwrenching expression anymore.

"I… can't say."

Then the dark haired prince looked up, and his face froze. Duo followed his gaze, until his eyes settled onto what he knew without doubt had caused Heero to look like that.

It made _his_ throat clench, and he had barely any reason to feel that way.

The weaving had been a side partition, camouflaging a small portion of the hallway. It was maybe ten steps long in all, and only about Duo's arms length wide.

However, resting at the end of this small alcove, was a small golden statue that had been placed face facing the wall.

Duo had no doubt that this was Marie.

Petite, obviously female, young, body language relaxed and carefree, and he was sure that she would have on a delighted smile. After all, why shouldn't she? She was embracing her beloved older brother on his 18th birthday.

He turned, chest tight, to find Heero walking away, the sound of his boots clipping the stone floor in an oddly final manner.

Scrambling to his feet, hardly noticing the wall reconstructing itself behind his back as he hurried to the prince's side, he had barely caught sight of deadened eyes when he knew, suddenly, that Heero had lost every emotion but bone-deep fatigue.

So they carried on walking, Duo matching Heero's steps, letting the rhythm of walking and silence of the halls form the only solace he knew the prince could find.

--

Wufei heard his bare feet hitting cold floor, having felt his limbs go numb some moments before, mind feeling shattered and detached and wanting to wince at the sight of blood dripping from the man with every movement.

Ordinarily he would have been fuming, would have been insane with anger, with outrage – or so most would believe. Instead, in a way that had almost surprised himself, he felt an otherworldly calm. Maybe it was in the less-than-human way he was being forced to walk, the methodical slight swinging of his arms, the way his mouth and his eyes and his fingers and his feet were all so much separated from who he was.

Maybe it was the fact that he knew that every moment that that man was walking in front of him, focusing on controlling the blackened blood that had dispersed through his skin with a word, was a moment more that Zechs was safe.

They turned a corner, and his blank eyes absorbed something that was enough to elicit latent fury from him.

There was a servant girl, slumped across the floor, limbs twisted wrongly, face deadened. Blood was everywhere, seeping still into cracks, pooling around her body and staining everything it touched sanguine. There were two great slashes across her face, diagonally bisecting each other, crossing eyes and cheeks and lips. Blood had drained completely from her body, explaining the copious amounts spilt across the floor. Her eyes were still open, but filled with wet, dark red blood. Her neck was twisted at an awkward angle, making Wufei hope against hope that she had been dead when her body had started being cut up. There was a line, drawn by the blade the man was still clasping, connecting the middle of her forehead to her bellybutton, having sliced through cloth and skin and flesh, splitting her in half.

Wufei wanted to look away, not because the sight was too gruesome to behold for too long, but because such grotesque disregard for body and life should not have to be seen. She was splayed out like some offering for the devils, and he itched to cover her body, close her eyelids, and give her a proper send-off to the spirit realm.

Placing a firm damper on his immediate anger and disgust at the man, but tucking it away for later, for when justice could be exacted, he instead forced his mind – the only thing he had control over – to travel back to the times when his father had brought out the crushed bruise-coloured velvet book and told him to look. Look, even when he wanted to look away. Look, at the evilness that humans were capable of. Look, because _'the only way to protect yourself and those who need your protection is to know what evil the world is capable of'_.

And he remembered. And his blood ran dead cold.

Diagonal slashes bisecting each other, cutting through the eyelids. Vertical line cutting open the body. Young girl innocent of sin. Neck broken – after the cutting has been completed. All done in order, with spirals drawn on her palms – yes, they were there – so that…

_the soul may be trapped within the deceased body._

He must die, Wufei thought, already certain that he would see it happened. Even death would be too good a thing for that foul beast.

No one, and especially no one innocent, should have such a thing done to them.

A pure soul trapped within an empty and bloody body, unable to free itself, tortured, in the epitome of pain…

It would all serve to make the shed blood many times more powerful. And a man who knew enough to do this, a man wicked enough to exert such a thing…

For the first time, Wufei felt really, truly afraid.

'_So much for coming here, breaking the curse, and freeing us all_,' he thought bitterly. Out of all the things he had anticipated for this journey… dying at the hands of the man who had brought about Zechs' existence had not been one. It seemed like the touch of the cursed prince was no longer the thing they had to worry about.

They…

Oh, god. Zechs and Trowa and Quatre and Duo. Where were they now? What were they doing? Did they know…?

'_Please_,' he thought desperately, watching the man dip his fingers into the girl's slashed open stomach and grin maniacally. '_Please, stay away_.'

--

It was lovely.

It was just like the shadows had whispered to him.

It was lovely, it was song, it was pure and sacred and everything he had wanted it to be.

He drew his fingers out of the girl's bloody stomach, glad the blood had cooled. Now it felt lovely, he no longer hated it, he felt redeemed, he felt lightened, he felt free. After he had watched the life drain from the girl, after he had poured his anger out and made her pay of the sins of the bitch's son, there had still been a vague unhappiness, a vague dissatisfaction at the pit of his stomach.

Then _he_ had appeared.

Shrouded in shadow, swathed in layers of darkness, a voice of the gods, come to show him the way. The voice had captured him, had been the only good thing left in his world – his princess! Gone! – and so very carefully he had followed the directions, cutting open the girl's body exactly like he described that it should be.

Then he had broken the girl's neck, and as he did, she had shrieked, long and loud and piercing, but so very different from the way she had whimpered when he had first introduced her to death.

But _his_ voice, so magnificent, rising from the darkness and telling him, 'well done', and everything was gone, leaving him overcome with this… purity.

And _he_ was inside him, now, singing through his veins, leading him to the bitch's son's room and giving him the parasite as a reward for his excellence.

But then he had see the two of them, curled up after copulation, with the audacity to sleep like they had something to feel happy about.

He'd fix that.

Blood lining his fingers, he had caught the little dark one, and now… now… he would really make them pay.

He murmured for the blood to command the little feisty one down, watched as he did so, eyes and face and body all perfectly obedient.

And, the magnificent voice speaking to him, he smeared the virgin's blood onto the slave scum's face. He somewhat pitied the poor boy, but it was his own fault for consorting with such vermin as that the bitch had borne.

The bitch's son would feel his pain… His princess would be reborn… And his dream would come to life.

The voice whispered to him.

And he smiled.

--

"Lovelies?" she asked, voice dancing, but so very much harder than it was meant to sound.

"How did he manage to do this?" Flickers of light shot from her fingers, making the others titter concernedly and dance backwards.

"How could we miss this?" She was angry, something she hadn't felt in a long time. Strange, in a way.

They clustered around, Light drawing comfort from the others. "This is not a failure, beloved," Sky murmured, comfort dancing along her words. "He will never experience victory, this I promise you."

"Aye," they echoed, and she felt better. Anger was exhausting! She let herself smile again, painting the outline of a rainbow and watching as the others filled it with colour.

After all, their chosen were safe, were together, were gaining in strength and growing in love.

She sent out a hand and tapped the tall blond one, directing him in the right direction as he scrambled about fearfully. Really! Humans seemed to lose all their wits when it came to their beloved ones. Tall blond was sweet, but really, so very silly!

She watched as he ran in the right direction, finally, and turned to her own.

"We must settle with the one," she said firmly, smiling afterwards to show them she was no longer angry.

They didn't like angry, and neither did she.

"He will learn," she said, and then she laughed, whirling her arms around in her favorite dance.

--

Zechs saw the blood, so much blood, and felt his heart crumble and die.

"No," he whispered. "'Fei…"

--

TBC

A/N: I swear this is never ending. I need help. . Haven't been writing much lately, unfortunately, seem to be stuck in some sort of school exam-induced rut. But I'll get there! I promise I won't leave you with this cliffy (this is considered one, yeah?) for too long!

Much love to **_Kimiki_** for the beta, per usual. (Where have you been, lately? Haven't heard from you for awhile, I hope everything's okay…)

Reviewers! Thank you guys all so much, and apologies for the long wait, school has been a bitch. I hope this is worth it, and I swear that the next one will be out much quicker. I **_really_** appreciate all your comments, and value the fact you've stuck with me and are reading this! Couldn't have gotten this far without your support. **_THANK you_**!

**_BrokenChains_**: Uh oh, I hope the kitten is still alive! I'm so sorry for the wait, and I'm glad this still has your love! (on another note, I read your fic, and like I said in the review, it broke my heart. _teary_)

**_tati1_**: entrancing? Wow… I'm incredibly flattered. Your review made my feel so happy. g_rin_ You're too kind. And I won't stop writing – you have nothing to worry about!

**_Kalorna Enera_**: The plot is… there. Somewhere! It is hard to mesh plot and fluff sometimes, but I hope it turns out okay! This chapter seemed to be ALL plot to me, hope it worked…

**_Natasha AKA Tash_**: They ARE taking a heck of a long time to kiss, aren't they! It will happen, have no fear. Just have to deal with all this bothersome plot-type stuff first…

**_Hoshiko-Malfoy_**: I will TRY to post as fast as I can! And you keep reading, yeah!

**_InfectedLife_**: Ah! School. I am familiar with the pain… Thanks so much for reading, and I'm overjoyed Heero's still… lovable! XD The plot is so thick I'm worried I'll get stuck in it… P

**_I miss the Rain_**: No internet for a month? You're still alive? XD Glad you like, and um, sorry it's confusing! Would you feel better if I told you I get confused too? _grin_

**_Duosgirl02_**: Ooh, thanks so much for your love! Update right here!

**_Noroi-Inu_**: Thank you! I'm so glad you're enjoying this. The whole concept of Midas always intrigued me, and I couldn't resist adapting GW to it… Tro and Quat got there! But… Duo and Heero will be awhile I'm afraid. They have… issues.

**_ZaKai_**: Always glad to know that the wait is worth it. Thanks so much for sticking by this fic!

**_forever-FFN_**: Ooh, the end is awhile yet, but I'm so happy to know you think it's touching! Here's the next chapter.

**_Ink2_**: I'm just glad you reviewed at all! Well, not quite reborn… sort of! _cough_ It's awfully complex – here's hoping everything works out! Sorry it took me some time to continue.. but it's here at last!

**_Hitokimi_**: Update here! I promise I will try harder to be a better updater next time… So glad you like and thanks for reading! I see your point about Heero being a King. I wish I had some great argument to combat that – but I don't! You're completely right, however, for the sakes of this fic, it appears we shall have to overlook that… Prince Heero seems to fit just that tad better!

**_Shini_**: Thank you! Hope you keep reading!

**_Shinigamideathgirl_**: Thank you for all the love! Yesteryears IS a kick ass word, huh. I wish I could claim the credit for making it up! Update here, next one will be faster, with any luck!

**_Serenity a.k.a. Serena_**: Thanks so much. I WILL finish it, I just have no idea when… Hopefully you can stick around long enough to get there!

**_onee-sama_**: So glad that you're loving it! And it means a lot that you like the original story, and feel that I'm doing it justice. Heero angsts SO well, doesn't he! _beam_

**_yaeko_**: Well I did try to use all the core points of the Midas story, so I'm glad you're feeling that sort of… vibe. XD Thanks for reviewing.

Just an added note - my computer is not letting me preview this chapter on so I apologise in advance, just in case there are any odd things with the formatting!


	12. endeca

Chapter Eleven 

The blood was smeared over his face, first beginning with exact lines across his cheeks and forehead, but then they began to crisscross, blending into each other. Blood was being rubbed into his eyelids, across his bottom lid, the heavy, sickly stench creeping into his nostrils and making his mind wretch. His mind was repulsed, felt hot and heavy and furious, but his body played traitor, lying limp and obedient under the man's rough touch.

The man was whispering now, something that sounded like a cross between words and a gurgle. His eyes were flashing, darting around erratically, a smile never left his face.

Somehow Wufei knew that the man wasn't talking to himself, and the knowledge left him colder.

So he employed a technique he remembered begging his father to teach him when he was younger. They would sit on the wooden floorboards of his house – how he had loved lying on them and staring up at the wonderful shades of white flashing from the ceiling – and his father would tell him to close his vision without shutting his eyes. To see only what he wanted to see, to feel only want he wanted to hear, to leave behind the world that fought to keep him there.

And so Wufei did. Slowly, the awful man and the thick blood fell away from him, shed like old skin. Gone was the body that refused to obey his commands – he slid into a more comfortable one, where he was free and unbound and every movement was his own.

It all came back so naturally that the next addition hardly stunned him. A presence. A warm, comforting, familiar presence. Zechs. Of course.

So Wufei stood facing the wind, spirit of his ancestors behind him and Zechs by his side, as his body was painted in every shade of blood.

---

Quatre was delirious with joy.

Trowa's body pressed close – he was so warm! – and their lips moving against each other, breath heavy, spirits high… when he felt it.

Wufei. It was distinctly Wufei. It wasn't so much as something he saw, but something that affected everything else. An awareness crept into him; he froze, and Trowa pulled away.

The loss of contact made Quatre sigh – but only for a moment, before something more than awareness sent a shock through his nerves, making him grow numb and eliciting fear like nothing before.

Wufei was trapped.

It felt exactly like the time when 'Fei had disappeared for one day and one night, and they had finally found him, thanks to the strange pull-like feeling that had led Quatre to the sealed underground cellar.

He had felt it then, felt 'Fei trying to claw his way out of his enclosure, and he felt it now, a hundred times more desperate.

Then suddenly it stopped.

Cursing himself for giving into stupidity and – skies above – _kissing_, Quatre scrambled to his feet, searching for something, anything, a trace of the pull he had felt before, that feeling of _Wufei_. But it had utterly vanished.

Not letting himself even _consider_ what that could mean, he tried to bring it back instead of searching for it – force himself to feel it again.

Standing there, biting his lip, and feeling the sting of tears, the blond felt a warm hand slip into his.

And then – contact; warmth; the gentle reminder that he wasn't all alone – he felt it again.

He didn't know where it came from, didn't pause to wonder. His feet were hitting the ground and echoing, he moved through corner after corner, mind always two steps behind his body.

But there was always an answering pair of footsteps, and Trowa never let go.

---

Zechs hadn't stopped moving since his eyes had opened and he had _known_.

His feet had slapped against the cold floor in a continuous rhythm that had slowly sought to drive him insane. Blood rushed around his head, ebbing and flowing, echoing the pattern of words in his head.

'_Fei. 'Fei. 'Fei._

And then he had slid around the corner, feet skidding against – oh, no, no! – cold, wet blood.

And then he stood there.

And there was so much blood.

For a moment he stayed still, heart pounding erratically, fighting to make some comprehension of what he could see, searching for some sign, any sign – _please_! – that Wufei was still within those blank, black eyes.

Trying not to allow the absurd amount of blood to factor into his thoughts, trying not to scream because Wufei was utterly _drenched_ in it.

And then a man, previously crouched down low by Wufei's feet and scratching out dark red lines on the ground, stood up and turned around to face Zechs.

Hair now streaked with grey and sanguine, eyes faintly clouded, pupils dilated wide, grinning in a way that made a mockery of the very word…

Zechs' lips parted.

"Father," he said, and it echoed, lonely, in the suddenly aching silence.

The grin widened, and something buried under layer after layer of protection finally came to terms with the fact that Zechs Marquise had never really had, nor ever would have, a father.

Then Zechs looked back at Wufei, saw for a split second the dark-haired man as a child, as a toddler, as a youth, as he had looked last evening. And then he knew what was truly important.

Perhaps 'Fei had somehow, impossibly, sensed his thoughts, perhaps _that_ _man's_ power had loosened its hold for a fraction of a second, but whatever it was, Wufei blinked, then brought up his fist and swung it determinedly to meet with that man's temple.

He faltered, fell, grin still hovering over his face – and then Wufei had darted around the falling form to come to rest and Zechs' side.

"I was worried that you would come," he said, eyes flashing darkly, voice somewhat scolding. Then he smiled, dragging a rush of warmth back into Zechs' chest. "I'm glad you did."

Then Wufei blinked, remembering, and quickly brought up a hand to gather sticky blood from his opposite arm. Then he reached up, dragging reddened fingers over Zechs' forehead. He studied the pattern, winced somewhat, and after breathing out, "sorry," muttered something unintelligible.

The reason for the premature apology was made apparent, with a heavy warmth piercing through his forehead, pulsating throughout his body in the slightest of moments, spreading out surely through the rest of his body. Then – he could swear this – he saw himself glow.

And then it was gone.

And he looked down at 'Fei in time to see him exhale, relief etched into his features as a smile crept along his lips.

There was a loud groan layered with fury, and Zechs suddenly felt hyperaware of another presence aside from the three figures. Something coloured in shadows, foreboding and tangible in the air.

That man – his father – was standing, eyes all but disappeared into black. "Scum!" he hissed, and wielding a blade, he started in their direction.

---

They were walking now, no particular direction, no particular hurry, neither one leading nor following. Duo was matching his steps, or it might have been the other way around, he wasn't really sure. Neither of them spoke, neither one being inclined to do so.

Heero was sure they must have been doing this for a substantial amount of time, and he was struck suddenly be the sheer size of this castle that he lived in. To think that he could have been living here for so very many years and still find a hallway that looked alien to him.

Or maybe he had never really been of a mind to go outside of his usual walkways, or to absorb what he hadn't stood and taken in multiple times before.

He tried to remember what he had done everyday before this braided man had strolled into his life, and it took quite a time to do so.

He remembered silence. He remembered thinking, thoughts scratching at his consciousness every waking moment like a plague. He remembered whispers, hesitant shadows hovering around him. He remembered practicing with his sword, the familiar movements, the feeling of breaking the cloistering stillness, the small comfort it had brought.

There was a low humming, a deep, gentle melody, and he thought of the closing movements to a particular sword pattern. He studied Duo's form out of the corner of his eye, noting physique that would have been perfectly attuned for swordwork. Quick on his feet, nimble, movement certainly came easily to the bard…

As that thought faded away, it occurred to Heero exactly what he had been mulling over in his mind.

How long had it been since he had followed such a train of thought? One that brought no bitter connotations to his mind whatsoever.

As foolish as he still (hopefully) thought the bard to be, he supposed he owed the man something, at the very least, for giving him something else to think about besides the choking monotony that his days had been previous to his arrival.

His arrival, and those of his friends...

Duo continued humming quietly as Heero wondered exactly what they had been doing for all this time that he had somehow, unintentionally, been monopolizing the bard's time.

Then Duo's low humming stopped, quite suddenly.

---

Quatre faltered to a pause, and Trowa quickly absorbed the situation.

It wasn't exactly the most pleasant of scenes, but certainly one that was worth of all the previous occurrences – that truly awful scream, Quatre fainting whilst so deathly pale...

And now…

A dead girl, the source of the scream, cut up like nothing Trowa had ever seen before.

Wufei, covered in blood, slumped against a wall, a gash running down his left cheek.

Zechs, streaks of blood across his forehead, weight resting more heavily on one leg than on the other.

And… Zechs' father, grinning insanely, gripping a knife blade – and a significant part of the blade itself, obviously uncaring or unknowing about the pain – as he stepped towards Zechs, mumbling something almost hypnotizing, too guttural to be any language Trowa knew.

The shadows stole his world momentarily, fusing into his vision.

Quatre would never forgive himself. (The girl, cut up like some revolting sacrifice, screaming.)

And Quatre would never let himself be with him again. (Wufei, lying there, blood, and so very still.)

Trowa _knew_ this.

And so Trowa told himself to stop thinking about it, because he didn't want to know how he would feel if he allowed himself to do so.

Neither of the three took any notice at their arrival. Quatre was still holding onto his hand, giving Trowa some semblance of a reason to be grateful. He felt a tight squeeze, a barely there tremble, and echoed the gesture.

Before either of them could do anything – he hoped to hell that they were about to do something – Zechs father faltered. And stopped. And stared. And for the very first time since they had seen him, showed some sign of comprehension.

"_Pure_..." he whispered, and it seemed to Trowa that there were around five different pitches that word was uttered at simultaneously, and infused with five different emotions.

That man... it was surely wrong to keep thinking of him as Zechs' father.

It was rather evident that he was no longer that.

---

Duo's heart had, for the slightest moment, stopped beating completely.

He was quite sure of that.

It had been so nice, too, walking besides Heero, neither one saying anything, keeping the silence as if it was something treasured and sacred.

Then he had started thinking of something, and somehow it had morphed into a tune, and whenever there was a melody playing itself in his head, it always seemed to find a way out. And then, without him even noticing at first, he had started humming – and he had liked it, too, it was nicer and... more peaceful, somehow, than anything he had ever composed before.

When he had realized that he had been humming out loud, he feared for a moment that Heero wouldn't like it, that Heero would get angry or annoyed with the sudden demise of silence.

But the prince had shown no such emotion – Duo had even entertained the notion that the prince might have enjoyed it. Music obviously played no part in the other man's (long) life, whilst Duo could barely imagine what his own would be if not for its presence.

Then they had turned, both doing so automatically at the sight of a corner.

And then had come Duo's minor heart-has-ceased-to-beat crisis.

With every reason for it displayed right before his (very wide) eyes.

While the only word that seemed to be present in his mind was '_blood'_.

There was Wufei, coated in it, there was Zechs, face drained of it, there was that man, dripping with it, there was a girl, body ripped apart, the source of most of the blood pooling around the floor.

Quatre and Trowa were there too, he noted, eyes open in a way that meant that they were surely still in the process of comprehending the similar things as him.

Then the man looked at Duo.

"_Pure_..." he whispered, staring at him, _in_ him, causing the most uncomfortable of sensations.

He took the knife between both of his hands, taking a step inwards. Still staring straight at Duo he raised the glistening blade over Zechs, Zechs leaning heavily against the wall, pale and unable to look away from Wufei's slumped body.

And he brought it down, blade hissing as it cut through the air at a speed that took Duo's mind away.

Duo screamed.

It wasn't high; it held no pitch at all. It was anger, it was fear, it was everything and nothing at all, and it went on and on and on.

Then Duo stopped, and the blade shattered into fragments of dust in a way that sent the bard falling back into his dreams – his memories – his destiny written out in gold.

---

Quatre hovered at the edge of the door, wondering if he should go in.

The Prince was sitting, stiffly, upon a small cushioned stool next to the head of the bed. It looked upon first glance to be nothing out of the ordinary, and perfectly in keeping with what was obviously a servant's quarter, but on closer examination it had intricate carving skillfully etched into the rich wood, and the dark red cushion that rested upon it had the most fascinating needlework.

Both the stool as well as the man – regal, noble born, someone Quatre still felt awkward to look at eye to eye – seemed to be saying 'I don't quite belong here', and yet, somehow, Quatre got the feeling that this was how it was meant to be.

However, if he let himself ponder upon the oddity of the Prince seeming to fit so well into a servant's room, or moreso, keeping guard over Duo – for that was certainly what he was doing – Quatre'd surely become fanciful. If he wasn't already being so…

"Going in?" Trowa bent down over his shoulder – something that should have startled him, but for the fact that it was Trowa's presence – to whispered into his ear.

"No," Quatre decided, keeping his voice low. "Duo will be fine, I'm sure." He hesitated, then turned around, saying, "Let's leave them be."

---

Heero had the vague sensation of someone standing at the door, and deliberated briefly over whether to turn around. In the end, he decided against it, much preferring to keep the silence and not burden himself with unnecessary conversation.

Soon the sound of light footsteps danced lightly to his ears, and he felt his shoulders loosen somewhat.

Only for the tightness to return as his gaze once again wandered back over to the pale, prostrate form.

He wasn't quite sure what had happened, himself. There had been blood, he knew – and it had been a long time since he had last seen blood, he had forgotten just how… red it was. And then – the man (he vaguely remembered glimpsing him around the grounds), holding up that knife…

The whole spectacle had reminded Heero of why the majority of people looked upon death as a bad thing.

At least, he thought to himself, they felt no pain.

'Did they?'

He would never know, he supposed, what exactly one felt when one's body was invaded by gold. But looking upon people – so many people – in their last moments, he could say quite surely that never once had he seen pain flicker across their face.

Fear, quite surely. Anger, dismay, horror, even. Shock. Despair.

But never pain.

Gold…

He looked downwards at his hands. Examined the light veins running beneath the skin, studied the intricate web of lines on the surface of his skin that looked like they could have taken eons to plan and create.

Normal hands.

Everyday hands.

And yet, they were not.

Just where did they change from simply being hands to having the cursed touch of gold? They hadn't changed at all, not from the dawning of his 18th birthday until this very moment. They hadn't shifted appearance, not after taking away so many lives.

The first being Marie's.

No… not quite. The first being his own.

"Are you okay?" he heard, softly.

Duo was looking up at him through lidded eyes, face still quite drawn of blood, his expression tired and worn, with a slight wince hovering beneath.

Something about the words struck Heero as frightfully amusing, and he felt his lips draw upwards, a low chuckle bubbling out of his throat.

He wrapped a hand around the base of his throat, feeling the movement ripple through his chest. It drew to an end rather quickly, but…

It had felt nice.

Duo's face had gained a rather enraptured gleam, one that stunned Heero when he first rested his eyes upon it. Duo quickly shifted his gaze to the wall behind Heero, but there was something in that look…

No one had ever looked at him quite like that before.

He could think of similarities, some that he didn't quite what to ponder, but…

It had been the most… beautiful expression. Quite the fey… something that might have been enough to convince Heero that the man was really someone blessed by the gods.

Not that Heero had ever had much faith in the gods. Since they hadn't ever smiled upon him, why should he place faith in them? No, he believed in the strength of cold steel, of skill worked into the body after hour after hour of training, of deliberate movements, of control.

Or at least, he had.

He looked up to find Duo staring at him again. Strands of hair were falling across his face, framing his cheeks, somehow making the bard look impossibly young and achingly pale.

Impossible, because Heero could glimpse in his eyes something bearing almost painful maturity.

And he was practically white…

Heero's shoulders tensed further, eliciting an almost unbearably painful ache.

"Are you okay?" he asked. His words blended together with the very same ones that erupted from Duo's lips. They paused, Heero awkwardly so, then Duo grinned up at him.

"I'll answer for us both, shall I? I'm fine." He chuckled, a warm sound that made it impossible for Heero to keep the tenseness in his back. "As for me in particular, I'm tired, somewhat intrigued, somewhat disgusted, and somewhat aggravated that no matter how much I try and command it to, my body just won't move."

He tried to peer forward at the aforementioned form, and squinted rather angrily at it. "See?" he muttered, half to himself. "Can't seem to do anything!"

"Don't move," Heero snapped. "Don't be stupid, you've obviously over-exhausted yourself with doing… whatever it was that you did."

His eyes flickered back down to his palms, wondering why he had reacted as strongly as he had.

The bard was just so damned foolish! Spirits didn't know exactly what sort of thing he had worked at that moment, but it had obviously held enough power that the excess had been reflected back towards him.

Excess of what… Heero didn't know.

But… there was something not quite right about his castle.

It had never been a pleasant place, not after his curse had been awoken, but it had never had this… tinge of acute unpleasantness. A stronger word could definitely be utilized. He had only been truly aware of it after the bard and his friends' arrival, but now… he was sure.

Perhaps he had been too preoccupied with his own problems. But whatever it was, whatever had happened to him, whatever the curse said… this was _his_ castle. And no one would go around dripping blood in _his_ castle.

No one.

"What _did_ I do?" Duo asked.

"I… can't say."

The bard bit his lip, and Heero caught a twitch under the bedcovering he was swathed under.

"Stop trying to move," he admonished quickly.

Duo pouted, and grinned somewhat cheekily. "Have it your way," he grumbled. "But… really, what happened?"

"What do _you_ think happened?" Had he meant to do it? Had the bard screamed with the intention of releasing (had he somehow channeled it?) copious amounts of raw majick… with the intention of ending the madman's life?

Duo looked thoughtful. "I'm not quite sure," he said, hesitating. "It felt… strange. Like… I saw him, about to…" he winced, "kill Zechs, and the next thing I knew I was screaming, but I wasn't really, I wasn't _telling_ myself to keep doing it… it didn't even sound like me…"

"And…?"

"And then…" he shuddered slightly, and squeezed his eyes together before they opened even wider than before, his pupils somewhat dilated. "Then it shattered."

Again, something about the look on the bard's face made something inside Heero… stumble over itself. _Because he looks so fey_, Heero decided. _Because he looks like… he could actually be someone different from the others._

"It…?"

"It," Duo said decisively. "It. It. Everything. It shattered… and then… there was…" he paused, before going on. "There was gold. And before that… lots and lots of fragments of things like dust, or glass, or power… And then I heard…" He looked almost uncomfortable, now, ducking he head away to gaze in the other direction. "Diistnyy," he mumbled.

"Astronomy?" Heero repeated cautiously. The braided man's recounting of the events were intriguing, to say the least. It didn't even appear as if he had been aware of…

"Destiny," Duo repeated, noticeably louder. Then a faint tinge of red washed over his cheeks. "Stupid, huh. Destiny. Hah."

"You don't believe in destiny?"

"No." Finality laced the word. "Or, at any rate, I prefer not too. I want to live my life _my_ way. Whether… whether or not I make mistakes, or fall over, or make silly decisions… at least I can look back and say that it's all mine."

Such an appealing face, Heero realized suddenly. At that moment his features seemed to be strong, set, sure. It was almost strange that he wasn't living in some small village, bonded to an equally pretty maid. Then the bard's words reached into his thoughts, and it didn't seem quite as strange.

Wanderlust. Wanderlust, and the strange call that so many bards and minstrels all seemed to speak of. The call of music, they liked to think, but maybe that was just a better word for what had to be disgust with the normalcy of everyday village life.

No… the bard wasn't in some small village by the side of some pretty maiden.

Instead… he was in Heero's castle, pale and drawn, and looking up at Heero like he was _daring_ the prince to challenge his life decisions.

Heero almost thought he was glad.

But then he would never quite let himself feel that emotion.

---

Trowa was a lot sneakier than many gave him credit for.

Somehow, the green-eyed man had managed to maneuver Quatre into their room, instead of the library, where he had originally been set on going to. There were things that needed to be looked up, things that needed to be searched for, answers that Quatre wanted.

And yet, here he was, not only back in their room but _tucked into bed_, with covers quite drawn up to his chin.

And the worst thing was that he still didn't know quite how Trowa had accomplished it.

He wasn't a complete failure, however, Quatre had, in turn, managed to convince Trowa to go out and search for Wufei and Zechs, and find out exactly what they knew.

The door swung open lightly and Quatre tried to arrange a guilt-inducing pout upon his face.

Not that it works.

Trowa moved to his side, bending downwards somewhat. "They're occupied," he said. "Deep amongst the papers. I deemed it better to leave them be for now."

"Trow-" Quatre started. Then paused.

The other man was slipping off his outer garment and toeing off his boots. He slid into Quatre's bed, and turned to look at him, seemingly emotionlessly, except for the concerned emotion underlined inside his eyes alongside the tone of stubbornness:

"Rest, Quatre."

The blond did.

---

The bard had drifted back to sleep again, and sometime during his slumber a natural colour had drifted back into his cheeks.

Seeing him so obviously in a state of rest and heath it seemed rather inane for Heero to continue sitting where he was – that is, in the servants quarters, on a stool that had no back support whatsoever, and… watching the braided man sleep.

However, Heero made no attempt of movement.

If he had learnt anything, it was that time meant something quite different to him that it did to most others. He had watched the servants, as they hurried to one place then to another, always with something to accomplish, something that needed doing. There was always too much to do, too little time. Time _meant_ something to them.

Whatever that something was, it definitely didn't apply to him. Time had, over the course of copious amounts of it, become something that he seldom liked to think over. It only brought him great fatigue. And the passing of it… well, he hardly ever noticed it anymore. Not in long term. Each day passed, same as before, and tomorrow would always succeed today with utmost regularity.

Heero wondered just how long it had been since Duo and his… party of friends had arrived, and couldn't quite think of a number of days. Looking down at the peaceful face brought back glimpses, flashes of moments somehow associated with the bard.

There were more than he would have expected.

Some, he was sure the bard had no idea of. Like the moments when he had risen from bed whist the castle was asleep, to hover by the door of the brunet and listen to his breathing. Or watch lided eyes and think about the violet colour they were when those eyes were open. And the times when sleep wouldn't bring quite the same comfort – when he thrashed about and entangled himself in the blankets, when his lips parted and his face twisted and Heero had just kept on watching.

Because comfort, whether giving it or receiving it, also meant something wholly different to the prince.

And yet...

Duo, reaching out to touch Heero's arm. Duo, smiling, smiling so much, so widely, so _real_. Duo, wrapping his arms around him, curving to fit into his body. Duo, wide-eyed and flushed and...

Something snapped, something uncomfortable and awkward and irritating to consider. And Heero grew angry. He didn't know why, he didn't want to, but it began and it grew and it spread through his body, cold and furious and thoroughly swallowing up the unnerving emotion he had begun to feel a moment before.

Then, eyes glazed over, the cold, hardened fury numbed to any sort of conscience or feeling embedded inside him, and he stood up over the sleeping form. He noted the soft breathing, the long eyelashes, the streaks of gold threaded through the hair, and then noted with satisfaction also the way it meant absolutely nothing to him.

He knew quite well what he had to do, now. It was time.

Then he reached out a hand, and drew it towards the sleeping man's face.

A soft, gentle, almost… eerie wind blew, picking up strands of hair and playing with them, arranging them to lie across Duo's face.

And Duo exhaled, lightly. And then he smiled.

And then Heero didn't. Or couldn't. Or... didn't want to.

Because he looked down, and he remembered the statues of gold in the garden, the way they stood so very still, and the way the wind could no longer pick up their hair, and the way their bodies had forgotten how to breathe.

The prince fell back onto the stool, threw his head into his hands, and wondered why his hands lied to him about what they could do every time he did so. 1

---

Duo remembered.

Or rather, Duo witnessed, for the first time.

How the man had seemed to shatter, _had_ shattered, as something burst out of him, and his body sunk into itself.

How Zechs had also sunken into himself, then resurfaced, wearing eyes that were hard and stony, eyes that, for a moment, had wanted to weep.

How Wufei had stumbled to his side, had turned Zechs' face away, and deliberately averted his eyes from the twisted, shriveled body, and how they had walked away, never letting go of each other.

How Quatre had fallen to the ground, silent, and how he had traced lightly what Duo later learned was the sign of salvation onto the stone floor.

How Trowa had looked, not at the madman's carcass, but at _Duo_, eyes fixed in such a way that made him want to curl into himself.

And Heero… Heero had looked at him, and Duo didn't know what he was thinking. Not at all, but he wanted to, so very much.

Heero, as he had looked at Duo, had also wanted something, very much, but Duo didn't think he could ever learn what that was. Because he knew Heero didn't know himself, either.

Trowa had picked Duo up, in the end, and followed as Quatre led him into a close-by room, but Heero had walked beside him, never ever turning his head to look at them, but… never leaving Duo's side, even after Trowa and Quatre had both moved away.

Duo's vision fell closed, gently, but not before he saw it, _felt_ it:

'_-he brushed sticky hair away with the back of his hand, an odd emotion streaking through him at the touch of flushed skin-'_

Heero, bent over his body, odd expression forming behind his eyes, back of his hand dry and warm –

Then Duo fell from one time into another.

---

They linked hands, the sense of joy and euphoria that he had come to expect not failing him, and the sweet scent of grass swept over him as they fell gently on green and softness against his skin.

'_Happy?' he heard._

Then he turned his head to meet the eyes of _the one that loved him_, and smiled.

'_Yes,' he whispered._

Then their bodies curved together upon the sweet green grass, and they met, palm to palm, and that was _how it was supposed to be_, forever and ever until always.

--TBC--

1 Heero's touch of gold does not work when he touches any part of his own body. Simply because, it would cause too many issues that way, and also, make it rather easy (in my opinion) for him to end up killing himself (whether deliberately or simply by accident). (Thanks to Kimiki for bringing up this point!)

**A/N**: And that is quite the end of blood and gore, or so I hope. And thank goodness. Back to angst interspersed with fluff (and 1x2, with any luck!); that just had to be done for the sake of The Plot. (I think.) Reviews will help me survive till the end. Certainly have helped me get up to this point!

Thanks to: **Kimiki**, as always, for the beta's, educating me in the way of American spelling, and saving me from weird and silly mistakes. And, well, just being a kick-ass beta and nice person. (smiles)

Huge apologies for such a late, late update. RL has been featuring much more in my life as of late, and I just haven't had the time, unfortunately! As I am away on holiday for the next few weeks, I can't promise updates will get any better, but I do offer my deepest apologies! I hope that you will all bear with me, and most of all, keep reading and reviewing!

Individual thanks for reviews will be put on hold until more free time comes my way, regretfully, but this in _no_ way means that I value your reviews any less! Thanks to all the great reviewers: **Piper**, who emailed me (which is always just as lovely!), **Ink2, Saturnine Succubus, GoldenRat, tyleet88, JinLucifer, Serenity a.k.a. Serena, Artephius, Noroi-Inu, ZaKai, InfectedLife, Spark of Life, Hoshiko-Malfoy, Pandora-chan, Onee-sama, Nozomu, Redroseprincess678, jess-eklom, BrokenChains **and **ravel queen**. You make my day, and I hope you haven't given up on me (and this fic) yet! _Thank you_!


	13. thodeca

Chapter Twelve 

When Quatre awoke, his mind felt strangely clear, moreso that it had for many, many days now.

It was only when he felt someone moving beside him that confusion started to cloud his head again. He blinked at deep green eyes, before the brown head of hair moved from its previous position into on that meant Quatre had to look up.

"Morning," Trowa said, a pleasurable low rumble within his voice.

"Good… good morning," Quatre replied, an awkward hotness entering his cheeks.

Trowa looked perceptively at him for a long moment, making Quatre tense up with anticipation over his coming words.

But none came. Trowa stood up, the soft bedding moving beneath their bodies, and padded away lightly after a particularly piercing glance into Quatre's eyes, leaving Quatre watching as he moved away.

When Quatre next saw him, they were both fully dressed with faces washed. But the entire time Quatre had been getting presentable he had kept thinking about what Trowa had wanted to tell him.

Trowa entered their room again, followed by Wufei and Zechs, the presence of the other two bringing back the focus that had been lost ever since he had met Trowa's eyes.

There was a scar of 'Fei's cheek, Quatre noticed, and Zechs looked noticeably paler. But they were standing close beside each other, and neither of them looked to be in any sort of mental or physical trauma, so Quatre sufficed that they had all come out of the situation as well as could be expected.

There was a momentary silence in which no one deemed to say anything. Then, quite suddenly, Wufei slid down onto the floor and crossed his legs in a sitting position. Resting his arms on his knees, he looked around at them. "I have a theory," he stated, nodded his head.

Zechs looked at him, then slid down in mirror of Wufei's earlier actions, grinning. "When _don't_ you have a theory?" he asked, lightly.

Wufei scowled somewhat, turning his head, but as he caught sight of Zechs' wide smile his expression relaxed. "I don't need to tell _you_ what I think, then," he grumbled.

Zechs reached up to flick his dark ponytail, laughing lightly. "You know you want to…"

Wufei folded his arms and looked away.

Judging that this could take some time, Quatre joined the exchange. "Wufei. You mean to say you have some idea about all these…"

"Occurrences," Trowa finished.

Quatre looked at him briefly, before his eyes returned, to fall deliberately upon Wufei.

"Anything to help what happened become… clearer, would be appreciated, 'Fei. I… don't like what's happened. It felt… This place feels…" He shuddered without meaning to. Atmosphere affected him greatly, it always had, and now, with the echo of the servant girl's scream and the image of all that spilt blood living within his head, he felt acutely aware that there was something wrong with this place.

"A girl was cut up and the floor was painted with blood. You're not supposed to like what's happened." The terseness in Trowa's voice made Quatre start and put him on edge. But when he looked up, a reply ready to be flung at him hesitated upon his lips.

There was something wrong with Trowa. It was hiding, carefully, behind his eyes, but Quatre could feel it. Something had shifted between them, but with all the events falling one after another, he hadn't had the time to discern exactly what it was.

He wanted to talk to Trowa, very, very badly.

But he needed to hear what Wufei said.

Sectioning off the part of his mind that could only think about Trowa and the incredible amount of emotions the brunet seemed to want to show to him, he concentrated his attention onto 'Fei, preparing to force emotion away for the coming time period.

"Speak, Wufei. What exactly happened?"

The gravity in his voice reached the others; he could seem them switch their minds immediately into all seriousness.

"I recognized the signs of blood majick from various things I saw him do with the body," Wufei started.

What he had to say did not bring any relief to Quatre's worries.

None whatsoever.

---

Duo's eyes flickered open, and contrary to what he would have thought, he felt exactly like he should have – like a person who had just experienced a particularly good rest.

He stretched, yawned, felt a little more coherent, then noticed a pair of cobalt eyes fixed upon him.

"Morning," he smiled, cheerily, feeling in particularly good spirits and not wanting to think about why that might be so or how exactly he should be feeling.

The Prince didn't deem to return the greeting, Duo didn't particularly mind. Instead, Heero drew his gaze to the floor beside him, obviously expecting Duo to do the same. Then he said, "Play for me." And Duo knew that he had never quite heard the prince's voice like that before.

And then his eyes fell upon his lute.

A rush of warmth flickered through him, perhaps because of the prince's words, perhaps because he hadn't set eyes upon his beloved instrument for such a span of time. Whatever it was, his initial joy had somewhat doubled, and he nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course!" A bright smile spread across his face, lighting up his eyes.

Then he reached down to pick her up, and settle her across his lap without moving too much upon the bed.

It no longer required much thinking to start playing; it had become something quite akin to breathing. Often, it didn't take much thought over which tune to pick out either, his emotions and state of mind would decide that for him.

So Duo let his eyes fall shut lightly, and felt his fingers start to move, gently, and just so, against the strings.

The melody that chose to be played surprised him, but with the tune and the rhythm filling up his mind, he didn't think too much about why it made him feel like somehow... it meant something.

It was a fairly simple one, but pretty nonetheless. Lovers would often have this played after they had encountered their bonding ceremony, mainly because it brought about a comfortable atmosphere. It had a gentle, lilting melody that drifted pleasurably through the air, sinking into his skin. He was playing it slower than usual, but the melody didn't want to be played any faster.

Duo started to hum along, lowly, without using any words. They weren't quite right for now...

Towards the end, the melody faded slowly, and he drifted into the minor scale, running up and down it lightly as his eyes opened.

The Prince of Hei had fallen asleep.

The sight of the dark-haired man resting there, listening to his breathing, brought a rush of warmth to Duo.

Peace. Comfort. Rest.

Things Heero could not find easily.

And Duo had given them to him, for however short a period of time. This... the thought... the thought made Duo really, really happy.

He reached forward, studied the way Heero's fringe fell before his eyes, the shape of his nose, the gentle curving of his lips. Duo examined the closed eyelids and heard the soft rush of breath from those lips, and he smiled gently.

There was something echoing through his body, a knowledge or sensation or emotion, which Duo expelled through the movement of his fingers. The jumbled thoughts within his mind, all vying for attention, were placated, either by the music or the sight before him.

He settled back into his bedding, playing absentmindedly, watching the rise and fall of the prince's breathing.

He was playing the song he had composed within his head as he had walked beside Heero.

It sounded even lovelier than he had imagined it to be.

---

They talked for a long time, the four of them, words passing backwards and forwards, silence playing just as an integral part, allowing the words and what they meant to be absorbed.

Finally, when everything that could have been said had been, Quatre glanced around. "I think we better speak to Duo. Because I know he'll have questions of his own, and no doubt try to find his own answers if we don't give them to him first." His eyes flicked quickly towards Wufei and Zechs, then bit his lip. Standing up, he reached for Trowa's hand. "We have to go and speak with him." He kept his hold, even as he felt his palm grow damp, and watched the other two leave the room.

Then he squeezed Trowa's palm, and tilted his head up to meet his friend's eyes. "I want to talk to you," he murmured. "Later."

He expected Trowa to nod, perhaps respond with pressure on their joined hands.

But the brunet swept downwards, and planted a firm kiss upon his lips. "We will," Trowa said, as he moved away, towards the door. "Later."

Later Quatre wondered if maybe he hadn't smiled because he had, for a split second, forgotten how to do anything.

The brief exchange had been enough to sooth a segment of the churning worries within the two.

---

The next time Duo woke up, he had the vague thought that he seemed to be spending more than half his time drifting in the dusty space between sleep and wakefulness.

This time, however, as he awoke, he was completely alone in the room, apart from the presence of his lute. His eyes had opened into a sunlit room, the bright sunbeams fluttering into the room through a small, high window. "Time to rise and shine," he said to himself, lightly. "The world is waiting for you!" The world and a prince, something whispered, and his lips drew upwards into a smile.

He pushed himself up, blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes and his head, and began to work his hair into its braid. He found his lute case placed neatly into a corner, and returned his beloved instrument gently back into its resting place. He wondered if he should leave it in the room, then dismissed the idea quickly. He doubted if either Heero or he would be returning to this place anytime soon.

Running his palms over his outer tunic, he half-heartedly tried to smooth out the crinkles that had been worked in during sleep. He hefted the lute case upon his shoulder, a tender smile crossing his face at the familiar feeling. Sparing a last look at the room that had helped to gift him the memory of Heero, sleeping peacefully, he turned around.

Too many things had been happening too fast, and it was time he tried to find out about them. A number of things were troubling him, all seemingly separate from the rest, and then also was this uncomfortable, almost good, not quite bad feeling that churned around and around his belly…

He needed to think things logically, that was what he needed. He needed to start from the moment he arrived in Hei – or even, the moment Bard Maxwell had… had died. He needed to recall everything that had happened to him since then, and then surely the answers to the disturbing things that had been occurring would make itself known.

Those dreams. That madman. The prince's curse.

It had seemed so easy when he had first volunteered himself. Of course, at that time the dreams hadn't seemed quite as significant. He hadn't known that a servant girl would be… ripped apart, and by Zechs' father. And…

Skies above... the Prince of Hei was not supposed to have been this... intriguing.

Duo shook his head, his bangs ruffling slightly, obscuring his eyes.

That was how he felt. Like something very important was obscured from him. Something he needed to know…

"Duo."

He turned around swiftly, eyes darting about for the source of the voice – Heero's voice. His movements had been too wide, however, and he moved closer to the door than he had meant to. Out went his palms to break his fall as he lost his balance, but instead of meeting with cold floor, he met soft material and hard chest instead.

"Oops," he said, sheepishly.

Duo scrambled to stand straight again, and having succeeded forced himself to meet blank blue eyes. Somehow, he wished that the prince could have shown some sign of something – surprise, shock, or even annoyance. Not that empty blue…

Then Duo blinked. He saw the way Heero's hands were once again clenched into a fist, the way his knuckles had gone pale with the force upon them, the way they were trembling, ever so slightly. Then he brought his face upwards, until he was almost bumping noses with the other man.

"Duo!"

The owner of that name ignored the exclamation, apart from a "hush!", and continued his examination.

Heero had the most expression-filled eyes he had ever seen before in his life. Duo thought of the stories that his father's father had told him when he had just begun to understand language, stories of faraway lands and the waters upon waters that surrounded them. And these waters would lie still as stone, but when one looked closer… you could see everything. Ever flicker of the wind skimming the surface, and whispers of the creatures within the waters, the murmur of the waters themselves…

And when Duo let himself really, really look into Heero's eyes… he realized that he could learn so much.

When he wrenched his own violet eyes away, dragging them reluctantly to fall upon the floor, he felt like he was finally beginning to understand the prince. Just a little... just... enough.

Consciousness returned to him, reminded him about what he had just done, and he drew his hand up to his lips, his face colouring just slightly. "Uhh..." he murmured, "Sorry about that..."

Duo could feel the prince's gaze fall squarely upon him, those seemingly empty cobalt eyes exerting immense pressure somehow, making him want to cringe.

Yet Heero's hands were still clenched together, in a way that seemed almost angry, almost…

Duo moved closer again, this time in full possession of his senses, and reached out to carefully wrap his hand around Heero's right. Slowly he let the warm presence of his own flesh draw out the tension, and watched happily as Heero's fingers unfurled.

Then he looked up, and smiled gladly.

"You don't have to do that," he told the other man quite solemnly. "I believe that you won't hurt me."

"How… how can you believe that!" Something akin to anger flickered in the prince's eyes, and he had the feeling that seeing that anger was good, because it stood for a part of the prince that wasn't being kept hidden away from him.

"I do," Duo stated, meeting his eyes. "I told you before and I'm telling you again now. I believe that you will not hurt me."

Heero stared at him, then shook his head, somewhat tiredly. "You're a fool."

"Yeah," Duo chuckled half-heartedly, reaching around to tug awkwardly at his braid, "it feels like you've mentioned that before too. But it doesn't mean that what I say isn't true."

"You..." Heero paused, then changing his choice of words, nodded towards the room's exit. "Your friends want to speak with you."

"Good idea," Duo said, all cheeriness. Then he grinned quite disarmingly. "Come on, then."

And grabbing hold of the prince's upper arm, he began to walk out of the room, prince in one hand and lute upon the other.

Wondering once again at his ability to get on in life without showing what he really felt.

---

This boy here was good at hiding his emotions, Heero noted, as he allowed himself to be towed along by the smiling bard. His smile slid so easily upon his face, even though Heero had sensed something troubled within him.

Not that Heero _cared_ about whether or not the braided boy was troubled or not.

Though what had happened to him, as far as Heero knew of, at any rate, would have been enough to trouble any man…

Heero stopped his thoughts; spending copious amounts of time thinking about the psyche of the rather odd person currently clasping onto his arm and pulling him along did not seem to be a good thing. He fixed his eyes instead on something tangible – the swaying braid – and wondered where exactly the bard thought he was going. Heero had been the one to inform him about his friends' wishes to speak with him – a fact he had garnered from a pale, scared looking servant girl rushing towards the room. But Duo didn't know where she had told him they would be, and yet the way he was walking suggested that he had a direction in mind.

Heero _could_ have mentioned something… he didn't. Instead, he chose to simply follow, almost placidly, even.

And then his forehead drew inwards as the small blond friend rushed towards them, seemingly appearing from nowhere.

"Duo!" Quatre exclaimed, smiling and waving. "I'm glad we found you. And you look all… well again!"

The bard mirrored his smile, a gesture that assured Heero that the palace walls would soon crumble from having to bear the weight of overabundant beaming. He frowned slightly, arm falling back to his side when Duo let go.

"Yep! Heero told me you wanted to... uh... talk, I guess!" He laughed lightly.

"Ohh." Quatre paused, flicking a glace at Heero as if noticing his presence for the first time. "Well... yes, that is true. I mentioned it to one of the servant girls, hoping that she would be able to find you..."

Duo accepted the comment carelessly, not paying it much attention. Instead, he was looking around, eyes in search of other individuals. "Trowa... 'Fei, Zechs. Where are they?"

"Ah!" Quatre grinned. "Wufei has returned to his beloved books – he has taken quite a shine to the library here, I don't think he's ever seen quite the likes of it before! And Zechs has, of course, accompanied him to make sure he doesn't permanently harm himself by being caught under an avalanche of books... or something along those lines. And Trowa... he said it would be faster for us to split up and find you." His smile faded. "So... I'm sure he's somewhere. He knows to go back to the library if he doesn't find you within the next reasonable length of time."

The two turned in the direction of the library, and began walking, shoulder to shoulder. Heero watched them walk, and then noticed a certain tightness in his throat, a certain clenching in his chest.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling, but he didn't like it.

---

The next time Duo turned around, the prince had disappeared.

"Heero?" he called out, when he couldn't spot the now-familiar figure.

"He's... gone," Quatre said, twisting his head around to look. "I guess... he decided to go somewhere else." Quatre looked at Duo interestedly. "What does he do all day, anyhow? I mean..." he flushed before speaking, "there just doesn't seem to be a whole lot he _can_ do. I know – from what one of the servants told me – that he likes to spend long hours in the practise rooms, doing his swordwork. Or... that was what he used to do... before _you_ arrived."

Duo looked at him oddly, hearing the emphasis but unsure of what it implied. "You mean before _we_ arrived."

Quatre looked oddly disappointed. "Yes... yes, I suppose. Before we arrived." Quatre continued, asking, "What have you been doing?"

Duo questioned with his eyes, and Quatre added, "Well, with him. Heero. Prince Heero." He flushed again, and Duo couldn't help but think that both of them would be better off if Quatre just got to the point.

Then it came to him. Of course! After all, how often had he seen his friends since their arrival at the palace? He had been rather too occupied with trying to discern the best way to get along with the prince that he had barely even caught sight of them! Quatre, of course, was being rather polite about it, but he had obviously been trying to convey to Duo that he had been rather distant.

"Quatre," Duo started, placing a hand on the blond man's shoulder lightly. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to be around you and the others lately. I really do appreciate that you've all come out here with me! It's just that... well, I thought it would be best if I spent more of my time trying to find ways of breaking He – Prince Heero's curse. I mean... you think so too, right? I wanted to get _know_ him – it really seems as though that would be the best possible way to come up with an answer! And I guess I completely lost track of time..." now he was the one colouring.

Quatre was shaking his head fervently. "No, no, Duo, none of us have felt upset because we haven't seen you. I mean, of course, it would have been nice to see you, but we understood that you were busy. Remember, Duo, what we told you? No one has ever been able to enter Hei, to find the castle, and still retain their lives and their sanity... before you! We wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you!" He smiled at Duo. "And you seem to be doing exactly the right things by way of finding a way to break the curse.

"I... just wondered how you managed to get along with the prince as well as you've done. They say that he's been spending a great amount of time with you, and also that you... touch him. That you're not afraid of him. A thoughtful expression entered Quatre's eyes. "You're... rather special, Duo."

The bard grinned awkwardly. "Well... Heero isn't really the evil cold-hearted prince of the legend. I mean, not once you get to know him. He... he's a real person, Quatre! A real human being, just one who was cursed with something horrid and forced into a life no one should have to deal with."

Quatre studied his fervent face, and said quietly, "I heard also that he turned one of the servant girls. In front of you."

Duo's face hardened at the reference to a time that felt to him so very long ago. "It was a mistake. I promise you, it was a mistake! He didn't mean to, he didn't _want_ to harm her." His words were hurried now, bursting from his mouth. "He didn't _ask_ for the curse, didn't _ask_ for such a great burden. No one can take away lives and not be hurt themselves, in some way. Especially not someone good... and Heero is good. I know he is."

Quatre waited patiently for Duo to finish, then smiled at him gently. "I believe you, Duo. I believe that you have astute judgment of people, and so I believe you when you say the Prince is good. I just wanted you to assure me that your time wasn't spent alone!" His face was so warm that all the uncomfortable emotions that had momentarily flooded Duo were washed away.

"Oh... no," Duo told him, smiling. "I seemed to have developed some sort of ability to stumble upon the prince at fortunate times." Wanting Quatre to know for sure that the Prince of Hei from the legends was a Prince separate to the Heero Duo had come to know, he added, "I've spent enough time with him that everything I said before I said with absolutely no doubt."

Duo paused before continuing on. "He could have turned me, you know. Several times, either meaningfully or even accidentally. But he has never done so, nor shown any signs of wanting to do so."

Quatre merely nodded.

"I'm not very sure of how many days have passed since we first arrived... but I think I've passed each of the more recent days with the prince! Before... of course..." he shuddered slightly at the onslaught of images accompanying the memory, "the recent incident. Which, I guess, brings us back to what matters _now_. The curse on the Prince really seems like a minor danger when compared to what that... madman did!"

Worried worked its way back into Quatre's face, and the blond man picked up their walking pace, which had faltered. "Yes, you're right, what happened... it was really awful. And Wufei thinks, and I'm inclined to agree with him, that it was horrid in more ways than one." Quatre bit his lip. "Lately I've felt something... unright about the atmosphere. Perhaps I'm being foolish, or reading too much into things after seeing that poor girl, but..." He glanced around.

"This castle used to be a happy place," he stated firmly. "I know it was. I've heard – and read – too many things to even dare think otherwise. But now I'm thinking... that it wasn't only the curse that turned it into..." he gestured widely, "this. I believe it might have all originated from the curse, but... I don't think it was the actions of the Prince or old King that caused the drastic change, that caused Hei to be cut off so thoroughly."

Duo shook his head fervently. "No... I don't believe that the blame for the state of the Kingdom of Hei can be placed on either of their shoulders..."

Quatre sighed, then chuckled, resignedly. "I think the problem is that somehow, there seem to be too many. Problems. To think about, and to think of solutions for. But... I'm sure it will all work out in the end. Yes?"

Duo grinned. "Yes."

And the two entered the doors of the library, as the shadowed silhouette of Heero watched them.

---

The bard was really a fool, Heero thought, anger threading through his mind. Duo had such a glorified view of him, one that painted Heero in colours much too good.

Heero _wasn't_ good. Nothing was quite so simple as good or evil, and it merely proved what a fool that... _boy_ was, for thinking so.

Heero _liked_ it. He had liked it when he had turned that servant girl, with her wide, vacant, lovesick look. He had liked it when he had turned the ones before her, and so many of them there had been, through the years. Watching each of them as the life slid out of them and his touch painted them gold... it broke the monotony of more than 500 years of his life.

Too long. Too long to live. Often Heero felt tired of life, of living, felt quite ready to give it up.

Or... he had. Until the bard had stumbled into his life, and refused to get out.

Since then... his thoughts had been occupied with other things, many negative, one or two... almost, but not quite, nice. Heero now possessed a great many memories at his disposal, all with Duo featured prominently within. The bard, with the smile that could actually paint his face a colour brighter than gold, with his stubbornness, his determination to prove that he wasn't afraid.

Whatever it was, it was something vastly different from what he had grown used to. The bard was the antithesis of everything Heero had known from the moment his life shattered into hell. Duo had reminded him of the existence of something he had long forgotten about: human companionship.

But that was all complete foolishness. That was for people who didn't know what it felt like to have to power to snatch away life itself. That was for the world that Heero no longer belonged to, the world that had turned its back on him and in turn had him denounce it.

The prince felt like he had been drugged. His mind was unsure, wavering, hovering over minor details that shouldn't matter.

Then Heero wondered what it was that mattered in his life.

"Living," he said, the word expelled from his lips without his command. Then he laughed, a sharp, twisted thing, and smashed his fist into the wall behind him, relishing at the throbbing of his hand and the way the angry, hollow sound echoed through the halls.

He walked, slowly, deliberately, towards the training center, where his golden blade would be waiting faithfully for him.

Along the way, he drew out every memory of Duo and placed it neatly into a black box within his mind, one he would never bring open again.

---

This particular group of people were starting to irritate her.

Time was running low, and all they seemed to want to do was talk about talking or repeat one of their earlier conversations over again.

It was like they were looking for ways to drag out the process that she had spent so very long preparing carefully for.

She didn't like it when people didn't do what she had intended for them to do. It made her feel inferior, and she didn't like feeling inferior.

One of her own felt her waves of emotion, and moved towards her, pulling her away from the pool beside which she had been residing for so long now, watching the actions of the stubborn boys.

Another sprinkled light upon her shoulders, drawing out all the negativity, and she breathed out, and in, feeling freshness enter her being.

Mind and body cleared, she touched each of her fingers to her thumb, and breathed out again, a golden light emanating from her lips.

"He won't forget about the boy," she murmured. "He cannot."

"All that have been chosen by us... they cannot be ignored."

_TBC_

---

A/N: Hmm. I have a (vague) plan of action, but the chapters keep on coming and I just don't seem to be getting anywhere. How can anyone write over 4000 words and only get through one of the four things that are supposed to happen in the chapter? Sigh… like Quatre said, too many problems. Too many to keep up with - but hang in there. It'll work out, with any luck! Is anyone else really, _really_ desperate for Duo and Heero to begin all the kissing?

I have an LJ now, which I'm still sort of figuring out what to do with. http/ thousandpieces dot livejournal dot com – if you decide you want to ask me questions or complain about the fic or just drop me a note, this'll be the place to do it. (aka: you can talk to me here and make me happy, people!) Reviews have thrilled me as always, along with the realization that I was rec'd at Thanks to **Kimiki**, for all her beta work, and _all the lovely reviewers_:

**InfectedLife**: Hey, better late than never! I'm so glad you're still reading! Love getting your reviews – they get me all flattered and mushy. Hope you still love me with the eon that this chapter took to get out.. and also that you like this chapter!

**ZaKai**: Glad you liked. I don't think soon is this much delayed post, but it is more! And more to come after this too!

**Nim-Nim**: (grin) Yay, you like it, and you reviewed, which is awesome. Hope this chapter satisfies...

**chibikuro** **rose-sama**: Awesome is good. Thank you!

**keiichisei**: Explanations are on their way... in a few more chapters (I use the term few very, very loosely... oO) Has it really been a whole year already? I really must strive to post faster! Yikes! The thing with magic in Hei is that it really isn't meant to be around - it was driven out years ago, after Heero being cursed. It's just that Duo's presence has led to a number of events that meant magic was once again utilised... just not in a good way. (meaning the bloody sort done by our resident Bad Man.) I hope that makes sense - hopefully it will be clearer later on, or you can come yell at me again!

**Serenity a.k.a. Serena**: Thrilled that you're still into it... I remember when I used to get so enthusiastic about fics that I would print them off and sneak reads in the middle of everything (coughhomeworkcough) - so I'm flattered, whether or not you meant it as such! (grin)

**The New Shinigami Hikari**: Thank youu! (beam)

**Lou**: You read it start to finish and didn't find plotholes? Awesome! (I know that's not what you meant.. but thanks anyway:P I'm so glad it's.. um.. addictive? GRIN)

**Onee-sama**: hyper you sounds fun! glad the last chap satisfied, hope this does as good a job!

**BrokenChains**: It does have that abstract quality, huh. Most of my work seems to end up like that...! It's good to know the confusion doesn't take too much away from you enjoying the fic... whew!

**claushiru**: Clau! I can't believe I didn't realise you reviewed me until now... baka me, I guess! To tell you the truth, I barely wrote anything while on holiday... it's what shopping does to me, I guess. Scrambles my brain... (and how I love it!) Hopefully I see you on msn soon... ne?

**jess-eklom**: I hope your faith is not unwarranted! A secret? I've actually just _just_ churned out chapter 19 of this thing, which is barely even brushing the final chapters, so it's anything but drawing to a close. It is refusing to end...

**Pegasi51**: hmm. in hopes of clearing up confusion: Yes, Zechs' father is mad. He had been living in the castle from before Duo and co's arrival. And Duo's not quite a sorcerer - he's just the one that has been prophecy'd to break Heero's curse, and as such, has special... abilities. As for Heero - let's just say all the killing isn't so good for him. Thanks for reviewing, and all the 1x2x1 love!

**Pandora-chan**: That's the nicest thing to say, because for me, unfinished fics are hard to love! . (Though there are a couple I can't help but love anyway - hence the niceness of it. If that makes sense.) You should let me in on some of your imagined endings - you never know, one might just match up to what I have planned! And your idea about his touch turning people back - I never thought about it, but that's actually quite an idea... Hmm.. I like it a lot. Not quite what I'm planning, though.

**GoldenRat**: He sort of has magic. For me, the sort of magic in this universe is the learned sort, not the innate born-with sort. Therefore Heero wouldn't be able to, not without... learning, first. The royal family kept (not in the pet sense, just had around) sorcerers - so in that sense, they wouldn't need to be them.

**Hoshiko-Malfoy**: Here:D Sorry it was so long!

**tyleet88**: confusion seems to be a solid part of this fic - I'm happy that people keep reading nevertheless! Thanks!


	14. thirteen

Chapter Thirteen 

Zechs and Wufei looked up from a thick volume they had been examining when Duo and Quatre approached them, and for a weighted moment, no one moved.

Then a huge rush of unexpected relief flooded through Duo at the sight of the two, so involved in something that seemed so natural, so comfortable, when the last thing he could remember was seeing Wufei blood soaked and a blade rushing towards Zechs.

Pausing only to place his lute upon the floor carefully, he rushed to their sides and wrapped his arms around them, squeezing gently before letting go. As he pulled away, he grined embarrassedly and pulled at the end of his braid. "I'm glad you're both okay," he told them solemnly.

Zechs blinked, then smiled at the bard. "I'm rather glad myself," he replied.

Wufei started to splutter. "I imagine you have absolutely no concept of invading one's personal space, but I hope you learn before you try to accost me again, Bard!" But the smile on his face, the gleam in his eyes, made the relief within Duo rise again to the surface almost overwhelmingly.

He could only grin as he fell into a seat with a great sigh. "Well," he said.

"Well, indeed," Trowa said, dryly, leaning against the great doors of the library. Then his gaze came to fall solely upon Quatre. "I'm glad to see you've found him." There was nothing special in his tone of voice, yet the softness within his eyes brought a happy flush upon the blonde's cheeks as he fidgeted under the gaze.

"Yes..." his voice trailed off. "I found him." Words seemed to fail Quatre, so he looked up to meet Trowa's eyes. Duo, who was sitting in a position between the two, felt suddenly like an awful hindrace, and stood up to wander over to Wufei and Zechs, on the other side of the table, trying not to seem hurried.

"What's been occupying your time, 'Fei?" he asked lightly, pointedly ignoring the other two for the moment. Somehow, their relationship seemed to be somewhat tentative, and he didn't think it would stand well against teasing or even mentioning of any kind.

Perhaps both Wufei and Zechs had come to that same conclusion, because Zechs immediately drew up a chair for Duo to sit next to him, and Wufei pointed at a section of carefully scribed words.

"This library is excellent! Quite magnificently catalogued, too, and I managed to find what I was looking for almost immediately! And all these volumes of books – this one here, there were only ever five copies written out." As Wufei gestured, Duo scanned the writing, squinting his eyes as he did so.

"No wonder," he said, finally. "Must have taken a lifetime just to write out one!"

Wufei scowled at him, but before he could speak Duo interjected, his words light but soft. "You know... I think it's the first time I've looked at you and thought to myself... he's home."

Wufei blinked, but Zechs started chuckling. "Interesting you should say that, Duo... I'd agree with you, except that I have that feeling every time I see 'Fei surrounded by books."

Duo almost thought that Wufei was flushing, for a moment. But... of course, he wasn't. Quite. And when he spoke, it was not what Duo had thought he would say.

"It was my parents," Wufei said, smiling gently. "I don't think I have a single memory of either of them without in book in hand. And it was hard, you know... or perhaps you don't? I couldn't say for sure of the state of things outside of Hei – but within our town of Ran, it seemed near impossible to get any new books. And yet..."

"Their house was full of them," Zechs finished. "Filled to the brim, from the roof to the floor and piled against every wall." Now they were both smiling fondly.

"I don't quite know how my father managed it, but I was never for want of anything to read. Histories, legends, facts, fairytales... I read them all. And each time I'd finished a book, I'd run to tell my mother... and then she'd always smile at me, the most wonderful smile... and then my father would take my hand and give me another volume to start upon. After their death... every time I picked up a book I'd feel that they were right there with me. That I… wasn't alone."

Wufei spared a quick glance at Zechs. "Of course... I never was alone."

Duo looked at them, at the softness in their eyes. "You know... I'm glad that I met you." He studied their faces, and grinned. "Honest, I am."

Zechs began laughing. "Ordinarily, I'd be glad for that compliment... but somehow, with you, Duo, I'm not sure if it's a good thing!"

The bard winked. "I suppose... I couldn't say for sure, either!"

Zechs was laughing, Duo was grinning, Wufei was pointedly avoiding looking at the two of them whilst hiding a smile, and then Quatre and Trowa made their presence known again. Until that point, they had vanished behind a large shelve, and were now emerging, Quatre clutching a large volume in his hand.

"I found it," he said, eyes shining, excitement carefully latched under control. He was looking at 'Fei and Zechs, as if expecting them to depict further meaning from his words. They were both studying the cover of the thick volume, in a way that make Duo feel rather out of the loop.

"It?" he asked, trying to find something about it that made it any different from the piles of books surrounding them.

"Yes, yes," Quatre agreed, sounding distracted.

"Something to do with what that man was... uh... trying to do?" the bard hazarded.

"Ah... something like that." Quatre smiled at him, almost apologetically. He walked towards them, sliding the volume into Wufei's hands. "For later," he told the dark-haired man in low tones. Then he looked up at Duo. "Has 'Fei put your questions to rest?" he asked.

"Questions?" Duo echoed.

The blonde's face twisted slightly. "About... what's happened."

Duo wanted to mirror his expression. "Yes... I want to know what happened."

Wufei was smirking in a way that somehow made Duo feel slight better about having to recall the rather bloody happenings. Although that expression left his face rather quickly when he pursed his lips, eyes growing distracted as he tried to slot things into a preferable order before he began to speak, for the second time, about 'what happened'.

"I suppose I should start from the beginning," he started saying slowly.

'As good a place as any,' Duo thought, but refrained from interrupting, somehow sensing that it wouldn't be quite the best idea.

"-if you could call it that. Perhaps look upon it as what was the start of more recent events, though I can't help but think that it was a culmination of multiple things, but to do that we would have to delve into occasions many years ago, and-" Wufei scowled at Zechs, who was smirking amusedly, and hurried to continue, "-we won't quite do that now." He cleared his throat lightly, and pushed back his hair.

"I'll try and make it rather quick, shall I? You saw the girl, didn't you? She was laid out, cut up, the way she was, deliberately. Yes, quite deliberately, I am positive. Done so in a way that brought sorcery into her death – the sorcery of blood majick."

"After she died, Quatre heard her scream. In actuality, I believe that scream only occurred after he had already killed her. There was... copious amounts of blood, as I'm sure you noticed," he winced, "but her neck was also broken. That man killed her in a way that ensured her soul being trapped within her dead body, which accounts for why Quatre, ever susceptible to great bursts of emotion, felt it as strongly as he did. After killing her, he made his way to our room – Zechs' and mine – where he tried to hurt us. However, for whatever reason of his own... he changed his mind," and here Wufei flushed, "and decided instead to use me as another... vessel for the blood majick to work within. Unfortunately, by that time he had gained considerable power, and so I was unable to... prevent myself from going with him."

He looked angry, now. "I didn't think that I would be able to do anything... he was drawing upon the soul of that dead girl, he was excessively powerful, and also... he was mad – completely and utterly so. Somehow, the journey which he took to get here, and then, also, the... death of his daughter-" his eyes drew downwards, away from Zechs, "must have all been enough to drive him insane, and so, willing to do such things.

"However, before he managed to do anything but paint me with... blood, Zechs found us." There was softness in his eyes when he looked at the tall blond. "Which... helped me, mentally," he flushed, "but physically, we were both unable to overcome his insanity, and his use of blood majick. Trowa and Quatre found us at this time, but they, also, could not do anything."

He looked pointedly at Duo. "His use of blood majick was _that _strong.

"Then you came," he finished, and exhaled meaningfully.

"Me."

"Yes, Duo. You." There was something different in Quatre's voice.

"I... screamed,' Duo said, trying to decide what it was they wanted to hear him say.

"You screamed, and he collapsed."

The introduction of Trowa's voice made the braided man start, though, fortunately, it was barely perceptible. Duo wasn't really sure why he suddenly felt so on edge – a feeling that hadn't been there when he had first sat down, something that had only crept its way into him in the last few moments, without his awareness.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I screamed – I don't even know why, really, I just... didn't know what else to do. And then, I saw him collapse, and then, it all went dark." Something occurred to him, and he sifted through the blurry memories he held. It seemed awfully insignificant, but the words left his mouth anyway. "No. No, I didn't see really see him collapse. I saw... the blade. The blade with blood on it, I saw it – shatter. Into fragments, and there were shards of gold... Or maybe..." he shook his head, laughing tiredly. "Maybe that was a dream. I couldn't say."

"You saved my life, Duo." It was no heartfelt gush, just the simple statement, and Duo was glad. As it was, he felt unsure what to respond with.

"No," he told Wufei, feeling an abrupt surge of guilt. "If it hadn't been for me, you wouldn't even be here!"

"If it hadn't been for you, Duo, we would never even have dared to hope that the curse upon the Prince and upon Hei could even be broken within our lifetimes!" Zechs had an awfully nice smile, and it wasn't his words that eased the awkward feeling but that smile.

"Anyhow," Wufei said, "that was what happened, as far as I gather. He _did_ collapse, although he is still breathing, and we managed to get some servants to help us in shifting him to one of the cells in the dungeon, and keep watch over him there. I also, very fortunately, found a volume containing the reversal and purge of blood majick, so he is quite powerless in that sense. The girl's body..."

"I warned one or two of the servant girls to keep well away from that area... I believe the sight of blood will be just as effective. Just until we find a way to give the poor girl a decent burial of some kind..." Zechs' voice trailed off.

"I just..." Duo stared, then lost his train of thought. His lips parted again, instead settling for, "Why?" The bard's voice was soft, wondrous, his eyes looking towards Wufei.

The Eastern man blinked, looked almost confused. "Why?" he echoed.

"Yes. Why?" Duo's eyes flickered around to the others, including them in his question. "Why blood majick? Why him? Why did he try to find the castle? Why did he search for you?"

Zechs was smiling at the braided bard. "You have quite the ability to ask all the questions that matter, Duo."

Duo grinned lightly, but continued to look expectantly at Wufei, whose eyebrows were drawn together in thought.

"Why blood majick? And why him? I suppose, although I didn't quite have those questions in mind, they were things that I wanted to find out, hopefully by something written here." He gestured around the great room.

"And did you find out?"

Wufei met his eyes. "Perhaps," he said, somewhat reluctantly. Then he added a word. "Quatre."

Automatically, Duo's eyes drifted over to the person in question. "Quatre?" he repeated, voice rising at the end in query.

The blonde man sat down, and spoke, matter-of-factly, "'Fei thinks, and I agree with him, that to get to the castle that man somehow tapped into the power of the sorcerer who originally cast the spell on the Prince. That would explain how he managed to get through the multiple hazards stopping anyone from finding this palace. You know very well that we would not have been able to arrive here if it hadn't been for your... particular invulnerability."

"I suppose you're right," Duo said, reluctance edging his voice. He hadn't really paid much attention to that fact before, with all the thrill of actually coming upon the palace, and then meeting Heero...

"Well, if he somehow tapped into the sorcerer's power, it would mean that upon his death, the sorcerer must have left some fragment of himself behind. I believe it is possible, especially for a sorcerer from the time frame of the last royal family of Hei, for this fragment to slowly build itself back up into a being of considerable power. Power, that is, to manipulate the minds of others. People especially vulnerable... people, perhaps, who hold great dreams, but whose dreams rested upon another, and upon the death of that other person, have shattered.

Wufei sighed, and said, "The thing that troubled me when I first saw the girl, first recognized the use of blood majick, was – where did that... man learn of such a thing? Was it in Hei, was it within the castle? Ultimately, I suppose, it was a mixture of both those things."

"You see what we're saying, don't you, Duo?" Quatre had been speaking evenly throughout, never placing particular emphasis on any phrase, and he continued in similar fashion. "We believe that that man, the father of Relena, slowly grew more and more insane after she was turned by the prince. Perhaps he had come here with hopes that she would be the one to break the curse, that she would succeed in somehow securing the Prince's love and therefore leading him, as her father, into an enviable position of wealth and prestige. Perhaps, in order to ensure that they could reach the palace, he searched for alternative ways to succeed and called upon the sorcerer, or maybe it was the sorcerer who first came upon him. Either way, he, along with the young Relena, arrived at the palace, took up posts, all without much fuss.

"Then she was turned by the prince. And he slowly grew more and more disturbed, until he snapped, killing the girl – possibly driven to that point by the sorcerer. At that time, of course, the sorcerer would have leapt on the opportunity to completely invade his mind, utilize this blood majick that holds such great potential power, and in turn, use this majick to... purge the castle of unwanted beings."

"Us," Duo said, unhappily.

"Yes."

"Still... why? Why us?"

Quatre paused, though it was definitely not a hesitation, and looked at him, blue-green eyes different now, closed off, cold, even. This Quatre seemed different, drastically so, from the one Duo had thought he'd known. His eyes... they were conveying a message, but in no way one that Duo wanted to receive.

When Quatre spoke, his voice was harder, unyielding. "It just seems to ridiculous, doesn't it, that the spirit of the sorcerer has been lying, latent, within the castle, and the Prince just... happened not to ever realize it. Especially since this sorcerer, from what I've read, seems to be the only one who could reverse the curse... the curse which has made Prince Heero's life an utter parody of Hades."

"What are you saying, Quatre?" Duo furrowed his brow, trying not to believe that what he was thinking was what the small blond wanted him to think.

"What do you think I'm saying, Duo? Can you tell me that it seems impossible to you? I assure you that it isn't."

"Quatre! Why are you... you never... why are you saying this now, when before..." Duo's voice trailed off as he struggled to come to terms with what Quatre was implying. The blond seemed to be acting completely opposite to what Duo had come to expect, and the bard had never ever imagined that he could say such things... especially since the blond _knew_ how much Duo believed in Heero's... well... goodness.

Finally, Duo gritted his teeth, and said, "Heero would never do that! Make a deal with the man who cursed him, try to hurt 'Fei. Never!"

"Don't be unreasonable, Duo. You must see that it seems completely improbable that things could have happened any other way. Heero must have known about the sorcerer's presence." The matter-of-fact tone grated at Duo's nerves, making him wonder how things could have taken such a drastic downhill slide. He was becoming too emotional, he knew, and it meant that he couldn't quite get enough of a grasp on things to tell Quatre, quite logically, how it would have been impossible for Heero to have been involved with that... madman.

It was all quite too much information, too fast, in a moment when all Duo could think of when he tried to collect his thoughts was how Heero had looked, asleep, and utterly at rest.

"No," he said firmly, pushing back his chair and fixing his eyes with Quatre's. "You're wrong. Heero is a _good_ person. Heero had _nothing_ to do with that _insane_ man. You're _wrong_." His hand ran angrily through his hair and gripped the edge of his braid. "You're _wrong_."

Without pausing to ponder over why he had become so upset so quickly, or even why he was as upset as he was, he began walking to the doors. He wanted to see Heero. Just... just to see the other man would be enough to assure him beyond any doubt that the prince was _good_, even if Heero didn't believe it himself.

Duo spared one last look at the group of four men, sheer indignance roaring though his body. But Quatre was still sitting there, no sign of repentance whatsoever, eyes perfectly calm, sure, cold. And the other three sat with eyes all carefully avoiding Duo's gaze.

And awful feeling of being let down gripping at his gut, Duo pushed open the doors and set out to find Heero.

---

"Was that really necessary, Quatre?" There was a disapproving tint to Wufei's words, an emotion also evident within his dark eyes as he studied his blond friend.

"Yes," Quatre stated firmly. His shoulders slumped slightly, and he reached up to rub his eyes, sighing tiredly. "It was not really a lie, you know, 'Fei. All that I said about the sorcerer, and that man – I really am sorry, Zechs, to have to have mentioned Relena – weren't they all true? And it did give me an awful fright – it was horrific! But I'm positive we can handle that – the sorcerer, and whatever he's left behind of himself – ourselves... aren't we more than equipped to do so?

"Duo," he said, surely, "must stay by the prince's side. He must realize himself that _he_ is the one who will free the prince of the curse... he is the only one who could possibly find a way of breaking the curse! No one knows exactly how... that's what it says, no doubt about it. No one knows exactly how to break the curse... _no one save the one bearing the heart of gold_.

"Yes, Duo will break the curse, I am sure of that." He bit his lip, and hesitated, voice getting slightly more doubtful, even unhappy. "I just... I hope that when that happens... it will not be in a way that hurts him."

He spared a gentle smile at the others, and nodded towards the book he had originally brought out. "Take a look at that, will you? It's to do with the curse... reiterating everything we've believed in for some time now, but it has an interesting take on things."

"I do wonder, though," Zechs said, thoughtfully, "Why Duo hasn't come across anything mentioning _him_ within these books... he _has_ spent some time in the library, along with the prince – I've heard the servant girls talking about it."

"He doesn't know where to look," Quatre said, softly, an almost guilty look in his eyes. When the others turned to look at him, he flushed gently. "I... I had a feeling that he would try the library – he _is_ intelligent! I couldn't have him learning about it before he had a chance to come to a conclusion of his own... if he reads about the curse, about the part he has to play in it... it might impair his ability to reach the _correct_ solution. You... you agree with me, don't you?"

Wufei studied his face, but refrained from commenting, simply inclining his head and resuming his stuffy of scratchy handwriting. Zechs chuckled, nodding leisurely and saying, "You really do surprise me sometimes, Quatre."

It didn't help the flush to go away; instead Quatre turned his head so his hair fell across his face. "I'm tired," he told them, pressing his lips together firmly and leaning his head upon Trowa's shoulder, eyes falling close.

The almost light-hearted atmosphere would have greatly surprised Duo. But he wasn't there to witness it.

---

Heero's muscles were aching like they hadn't ached in a long, long time. Nevertheless, he kept going, doggedly slicing through the air with his sword in the ancient pattern of intricate footwork. He berated himself for having abandoned his sword for so long, hating the way he had tired already, persisting in continuing the endless movement. Up, down, step to the side, turn, faster, _faster_!

Movement didn't come so easily now, each step causing a dull throbbing pain to sweep through his body. His vision grew dusty, blurred, and the only thing left in his mind was the transition between one stance and the next.

It was all wretchedly nice: the ache, the pain, the victory of mind over body as he kept moving even as his physical self wanted to fall upon the ground – it all made him feel vaguely human again.

Human. Life. Breath.

Death.

He stumbled a little, off balance, protesting limbs unable to hold him up as his mind drifted from single-minded focus. He breathed harshly, unable to regain his previous grip upon his body. A tremor ran through his sword-bearing arm, his body shook and he was unable to stop it.

Heero stood there, perspiration staining his skin, a tenuous grip upon the hilt of his golden sword, no longer moving because he simply _couldn't_ anymore.

Why... was he here? Why... was he _here_?

Wretched, wretched life...

The heavy thumping of his heart within his chest, resounding between his ears, made him want to reach into his chest and rip it out, just to see if it would too succumb to the curse...

The curse...

There was the echoing sound of a footstep falling upon the ground behind him, and Heero spun around unsteadily, eyes struggling to take in the person standing before him...

"Heero?"

Duo.

The bard took another step forward, right arm outstretched, eyes looking worried, almost uneasy. Troubled violet eyes... That shade seemed to reach out and smash into his chest, making the prince's stance even more unsteady than before...

Dilated eyes blinked, a darker blue than Duo had ever seen.

Then the sword tumbled from Heero's grasp, the light hitting the gold and forcing a wince from the bard.

Heero blinked harshly, the sharp clatter of the sword meeting the floor merely an empty echo resounding in the back of his mind. The only senses his mind was interpreting was the sight before him – Duo, eyes awfully wide now, arm still resting in the air, delicate fingers outstretched, towards _him_, and then, now, tugging hesitantly at the corners of his lips, an unsure smile...

This... this _fool_! Smiling, smiling at _Heero_, when Heero could never smile again... Smiling at Heero, when his smile was a _lie_, because Heero had seen him smile at another.

Anger rushed through the prince, hot and heavy and tugging at his skin, reaching through his body and dispelling every trace of exhaustion that had existed before.

And Duo was still smiling at him...

Heero would make sure that he never smiled again... Never smile at another, ever, ever again. Heero would curse him, just as he himself had been cursed, Heero would make the other man shoulder the burden he had bore for so long now...

And Heero rejected the source of the anger, the why, only seeking solace in the way it burned so surely within him, _alive_.

The prince flexed his fingers, drawing them into a fist and slowly unfurling them, watching the movements of his right hand for a moment... then he looked up, and fixed dark cobalt eyes upon Duo.

_He would make sure he never smiled again..._

_**TBC**_

A/N: Shorter, this chapter... but I had to break it off there. I really do apologise for the huge delay in posting – I meant to have this out a month ago, but life just got completely out of control. I haven't written for weeks… hopefully I haven't forgotten how to! I'd promise to be much faster, but my track record isn't so good. (wince) Anyhow, thanks to everyone who reviewed and let me know that you're reading. It means _so_ much and I swear I'm sticking this fic out till the end!

_THANKS TO:_

**Kimiki**, for all her beta work and picking up on all my fragments and strange usage of words.

**Professor Potter-Malfoy:** Thanks so much – that's high praise indeed!  
**Serenity a.k.a. Serena**: hmm... you're definitely not the one who has to apologise for being late! I'm so thrilled about how much you like this. (beam)  
**Ariel**: ooh. I swear, when I have the time I plan on going through this fic and fixing all the discrepancies. Just... don't know when that'd be. Thanks for pointing that one out!  
**Pandora-chan**: You're imagined endings... ooh, you're pretty good there! Though I will tell you I'm a sucker for happy endings, although I do love the angst in between...  
**kirallie**: Right there – something _is_ affecting Heero – glad you picked it up! Duo... made Heero like him. (!)  
**InfectedLife**: Thanks so much for your review – I was feeling quite insecure about how this chapter panned out so it's so nice to know you liked it. I'm so sorry you had to wait long, what with the pseudo-cliffies!  
**Onee-sama:** Thanks (again)! And SO sorry about the wait…  
**Spark of life**: The progression is rather slow, but I guess that's the way it turned out... We'll get there eventually!  
**Natasha AKA Tash**: If Duo kissed Heero and Heero didn't touch him – he wouldn't be turned. As will soon be demonstrated. And thanks for the review – it gave me such warm fluffies!; piper: thank you! (flattered) and sorry to keep you waiting...  
**The Plot Bunny Whisperer**: I'm glad you're enjoying the pace – it's one of those things that just kind of works out that way. Thank you so much!  
**BrokenChains**: hmm.. chapters seem to vary in action and um... the necessary bits in between. I guess this wasn't very action heavy either, but... all in due time, and I felt awful about taking so long to update... damn RL!  
**jess-elkom**: soon! And thanks!  
**tyleet88**: yeah, sometimes I think the 100 chapters might not be too far a stretch... but I don't think I could handle that! Less that 25, I'm hoping, at this stage. Thank you!  
**GoldenRat**: yup, it's someone on their side!


	15. fourteen

p.MSONORMAL mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; li.MSONORMAL mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; div.MSONORMAL mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; h1 mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; p.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; li.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; div.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; span.SPELLE mso-spl-e:yes; span.GRAME mso-gram-e:yes;

Chapter Fourteen "Breath" 

Duo looked up the prince, feeling the smile upon his lips stiffen and become something strange and awkward as he did so. Looked as, before him, Heero's... _everything_ started to take on a sheen of... madness?

It couldn't be. Not Heero. The prince could be cold, yes. Haughty? Maybe. Tortured, even, to a certain extent, and only in a way completely Heero's own. But not madness – never. Heero was perfectly sane, if not somewhat different in terms of personality – and who could blame him? Duo knew Heero, he _knew_ he did, but...

The man before him was someone he had never met before.

Heero was advancing now, predator upon prey, a queer mutation of a smile glinting upon his lips.

Duo watched him, confusion running wild within his mind, dispersed amongst the previous unease and outrage from Quatre's insinuations about Heero. He could hear his own voice now, protesting surely, "Heero is a _good_ person!". And now, he struggled to apply those words to the person bearing slowly towards him.

Heero was an arm's length away from him now, and about to take another step closer, breach the space between them. His arms lay, unmoving, by his side, yet his fingers were loosely curled, unlike every other time when Duo could remember them having formed a fist.

What... what was _this_?

Instinct kicked in, propelling him into action, and he took a step back. Defence rather than offence, but it wasn't like Heero was going to _harm_ him... right?

Duo was dazed, unsure; he could only blink at dilated blue eyes darkened by... something. As Heero kept moving forward, Duo kept stepping back, an odd little voice telling him, in the recesses of his mind, that this could not continue for ever...

Then his back hit the wall.

And the prince took another step forward.

Blood was rushing through his head, the pumping of his heart felt all through his body.

'_What now?_' he wondered listlessly. The braided bard couldn't quite summon the energy of body or of mind to find a way out of this situation.

And then, there was the morbid part of his mind, a queer little voice that really wanted to know what would happen, wanted to know what it felt like, to have –

A dull thudding sound was produced as Heero's hands reached up and clapped upon the wall on each side of his head. Duo just continued to watch the prince, watch the sharp curve of his nose, the falling of his dark hair, the way his lips curled upwards, almost...

_insane_.

And those lips smashed against his own.

Heero's body was pressed upon his now, a warm heavy weight upon his chest. Duo tilted his head upwards, slightly, mind still uncomprehending, confused, lost...

But those lips were moving insistently, demanding... demanding... what?

Then one part of the bard's mind slipped into action, the dreams a mere echo within his head as he returned the – the _kiss_, but there was nothing gentle about it, a bruising meeting of flesh and flesh. Duo brought up a hand, slid it between their chests, reaching upwards as his lips moved unceasingly upon the prince's.

Oh... spirits.

This... this was not supposed to happen.

And Duo couldn't go on.

Detached words and phrases and faces and moments were thundering through his head, and it felt like a whole stable of horses were methodically galloping over his brain and body in tune with the thump, thump, thump of blood pounding against his ears. His limbs felt numb, loose, completely separated from his mind as he stood there, the hard press of a body against him taunting him beyond comprehension.

There was nothing good about this moment. A hateful surge of rottenness was seeping through his body and Duo...

Duo didn't know what was wrong with him.

Because the only thing, the only _real_ thing that he could hold on to was the thought that '_it shouldn't have been like this...'_

'_I didn't want it to happen like this.'_

It wasn't an epiphany, it wasn't something magical and miraculous and shining and pretty. It was hard and raw and painful, and it made Duo want to cry, because everything was just so wrong.

And it _was_ so wrong, and so he did.

He shoved Heero away, in a way that he hadn't known he could. Hot tears burned at his eyes, and he crashed his head into the wall behind him, feeling every inch of skin that had been in contact with Heero burn.

The bard forced his eyes shut, and holding absolute stillness, he did what he used to do when he was little – what he had forgotten he had used to do until this very moment. He fixed a note to a person, and he played a tune.

Father was always _do_ – a staunch, earthly man that always made sense and never spoke in metaphor. Heidi was _mi_ – gentle and steady and a comfort to listen to. Mother was _so_ – he didn't know why, but it just... made sense. Quatre would be _fa_ – so Trowa would have to be _re_ – but in the lower key. 'Fei and Zechs – _la_ and _ti_, because they followed each other.

And Heero... there was nothing left for Heero.

There was... no space in his life for Heero.

Duo opened his eyes, wondering what the prince had done as Duo had retreated into his thoughts.

The dark haired man was still standing, colbalt eyes seeming brighter and more vivid than they had mere moments ago, immediately making Duo feel lighter. It almost felt like... _that_ hadn't happened, but for the way his lips felt unmistakably bruised.

But the moment Heero's eyes fixed upon Duo's own violet ones, a unseen shutter fell methodically upon them somehow, and Duo was... shut out.

"You have until the noon candle burns out." The prince's voice, cutting through the silence, struck Duo harder than any blow could have.

"To do...?" His voice wasn't wavering. It wasn't. At all.

"Get out."

And Duo couldn't think of anything to say to that, not even to the prince's retreating back.

She was angry now, and when she got angry, things were not very happy around her. There was tension in the air, something which she hated and further irritated her, until a vicious cycle of annoyance was building up inside and causing her mind to ache.

She seemed to be falling into anger in a much greater extent in the last century or so than she was accustomed to, and it made her uncomfortable. So she soothed her mind, and with a visible effort – though fortunately there was no one around to witness it – she infused calm into the air around her.

Sighs were not heavy things when they parted from her lips, but nevertheless they expressed her subtle fatigue. This was coming to present more of an obstacle than she would have first predicted... not to say that she and her beloved would fail, just that... it would take somewhat more time. And time didn't matter... not in the greater scheme of things.

No, she would just have to deal with things methodically, one at a time...

Her eyes flickered downwards at the pretty pool of water, and touching a soft finger to the centre of the pool, she smiled happily as the image flickered and focused on the lovely blond with aqua eyes.

Now he... he, she was happy with. A human after her own heart, certainly. A boy who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. Although the numerous obstacles had been rather an annoyance to be dealt with, at least she had the pleasure of seeing his wonderful mind work.

Not that his interesting approach had seemed to be having the intended effect. Really, this Midas incarnation called Heero was proving to be even more stubborn and sullen than his forebears.

But he would come around, just like they all had, before him, and they all would in the centuries to come. How could they, with Fate providing such remarkable specimens of the violet eyes and hearts of gold. And this one, certainly, this Duo with a tint of siren in him, she was positive...

Their lips had touched. The rest would follow.

And she would just watch, and wait, and prepare to deal with the one only who was really her problem – Him.

The dull light that had shone upon Heero as he had moved across the floor of the sullen room, the same light that had glinted off the sheen of sweat on the prince's skin and bathed his hair in a foreign, pleasing glow, whilst dancing across the blade of the sword in the most buoyant of ways – that light had long gone. Duo was left, sitting upon the floor, cold eating into his skin without his conscious comprehension; his wide violet eyes the brightest thing in the room.

There was another feeling besides the cold, one much more aggressive – but in the subtlest of ways, trickling out from the depths of his mind and working its way through every inch of him.

Duo felt that feeling course through his body, just as hurtful and harmful, and ever so familiar. His skin burned, though perhaps that only occurred in his mind. Nevertheless, a slender hand rose from its resting place on the ground, and well used fingers dragged themselves up and down his left arm incessantly, calluses and nails digging relentlessly into skin and flesh as cloth persevered as a useless barrier.

His violet eyes had only shone this way twice before, at five, when his beloved canine animal had been ripped to shreds by a wild animal, and when the man he had loved beyond any measure had fallen ill only to perish. Both times Duo had been forced to watch as life faded away, and both times he had felt as if his skin was going to ignite and his eyes follow.

Neither had happened. But hot wetness had formed, as it did now, splattering across stone. One, two, three – then Duo bit his tongue till it went numb before splaying himself across the floor.

Feeling vaguely possessed, wondering if there was any part of his mind left to wonder any more, he stripped off his outer garments all without parting his head from the ground.

And the bard lay there.

Hair in his eyes, left arm tinted red, violet eyes still wide as ever as they stared without really caring upwards.

Then welling up from inside, a melody in a minor, a song that had never breathed before in the world came flooding out upon his lips. Yet it wasn't loud nor spectacular, it wasn't heartbreaking or even particularly memorable, just note after note, slightly wavering before gaining in strength, defying rules by straying from a particular crescendo of importance.

"_Hmm... mmm... humm... hmm..." _he never once parted his lips as the sound surfaced – it was almost like the notes had been created by the air around him, and he only the witness to its birth...

Up, then down, then up, then down, and then the bard began to imperceptibly make the most minute of movements along with the notes.

"_I make my way from day to day..."_

The slightest of smiles, the most poignant in its way, broke his lips, parting them more than the previous words had dared.

"_In hopes that I will find..."_ and the more comforting kin to warmth began in his belly...

"_I run my road, day after day_

_and I know that I will find_

_the end that means the world to me_

_the soul that grants me all_

_the air that breathes_

_the hand that holds_

_the voice that calls my name_

_the absolute that comes from within and without_

_beginning the change in me..._

_and from the place within my skin_

_and from the place you touch my skin_

_and from beneath the spirits' blue skies_

_I will give everything_

_and you will grant anything_

_we will be led to find... –"_

The last note rang, filling the room to within an inch, and for a moment Duo thought that he could no longer breathe it took up so much space within him and around him, and the pitch it held, trembling with strength in the stillness of the air, the aching unfinished rawness it left as it shuddered... ended... left the world...

Duo's eyes fell shut for the first time since the prince had left, and for the first time since then, he felt like he could see something other than utter darkness.

And only one pair of eyes were left to see the most beautiful of smiles live upon his lips, as a second stretched on for ever.

The man stared down at his fingers, marveling at their bloodied state before lifting a finger and tasting it experimentally. Then, quite calmly, he opened his mouth and his vocal chords worked until they were utterly raw.

He mourned the loss of the sacrifice of life, mourned the stolen chance for recreating the heavenly moment when he had snapped the girl's neck, when he had drained her of the most powerful thing every pathetic being bore – life.

And he thought of the abandonment of the voice that made his blood breathe within him, _him_, _he_ had left, _he_ whispered no more, and he was left, bereft, except for the blood on his skin and the voice that left his lips, shrieking at the world in the surety that no four stone walls could keep the sound from flooding outwards.

And he was glad for the blood, for the blood of all those wretched scum that lay beyond this room, glad that he had it upon his fingers to remind him of the work that must be done, and his beautiful, most pure of all, his princess who had to be given life as they writhed in the moment when Death gave them the most of hell.

Then, prickling at the edges of his consciousness, that familiar voice spoke to him again.

And he smiled.

He had not been abandoned... never.

Not when there were things that needed to be done...

And the sweetness of the dark, vivid voice begged listening to...

The never-ending unsettling screaming peel had meant a continuous cold shiver in all their backs. Every once in a while, when they would each expect it to shudder to an end, and then when it didn't, Quatre would reach out his right hand for Trowa's and his lift his left hand towards his forehead.

It was aching in a way that was enough to disconcert him, but not enough to warrant any particular action. It was almost, Quatre thought, like it didn't really hurt to any extent – rather, that some part of him _thought_ that pain should exist, and so it did.

Not that his odd musings made any much sense at all, but it meant a break from the constant emersion into the mind of a sorcerer who should have perished completely centuries ago – or better yet, never have been brought into existence at all.

"I'm tired," Zechs announced, tucking a particularly invasive gathering of hair behind his ear firmly.

Quatre smiled understandingly, and Trowa raised an eyebrow – perhaps in agreement, or possibly just acknowledgement. But when the one that the remark had been aimed at markedly glued his dark eyes even more firmly upon the page, Zechs leaned back, and shifted the chair slightly.

"I'm tired," he repeated, with no change in tone, then...

Before any passage in time had passed, he had arisen from his sitting position and bent over at his waist to blow, determinedly, on the back of Wufei's neck.

The dark-haired man jumped, then became very, very still.

Warning signals were flashing, but Zechs, as he had always done, pointedly ignored them with the slightest of glee.

"Quat?" Zechs asked lightly. "Is he twitching from where you are, or is he just glaring?"

The slightest of smiles was about to tilt Quatre's lips, but the sudden snap of Wufei's eyes upwards to burn into the small blonde was enough to force it right off.

Zechs signed exaggeratedly. "I'm rather hurt. You got a glare, and I didn't even get, well, anything!"

The Wufei stare-of-doom had much less of an influence upon Trowa, who had no fear in smirking openly.

Then... there it was.

Wufei twitched.

And sprang backwards, utterly catlike in his movements, to tackle Zechs upon the – thankfully – lush carpets of the library, struggling to pin him to the ground. The two flailed upon the floor, rolling backwards and forwards, arms and legs scrabbling to gain hold of anything possible.

"So," Quatre asked impartially, lifting an eyebrow at Trowa, "Who are you prepared to place your honor on?"

"Zechs, of course," Trowa stated simply, with the hint of – just barely – a scoff.

Quatre chuckled.

"You believe otherwise?" Trowa questioned, the warmth in his voice bringing out a happiness within the blond that he sought to convey to the other man through his smile.

"Not at all." And he shifted closer to the green eyed man, the familiar warmth infusing through his skin as he beamed upwards.

"Quat... re..." Wufei grunted, irritated. "What... do you mean... by that!"

Quatre permitted a slight sound of recognition, before leaning up and demanding that lovely press of lips from Trowa.

"Quatre!" Wufei huffed, catching sight of his friend, before Zechs took advantage of his lapse in concentration to pin the oriental man down once and for all.

"Zechs!" Wufei exclaimed, scowling deeply. "That was completely-"

"Unjust?" The long-haired blond finished his sentence, tilting his head to better study Wufei, all the while smiling amusedly.

"Yes." Wufei stated firmly. "Completely. You should have more-"

"Honor?" Zechs' smile widened as his face moved closer.

"Ye—es..." Wufei repeated, blinking upwards, wondering when Zechs was going to stop.

"You know, 'Fei," Zechs husked, eyes appealing and deep with that emotion that no artist had ever been able to render upon a picture.

"Y... e... s...?"

"Wufei... You must know by now... you're _never_ going to beat me at this!" Zechs grinned triumphantly, victory dancing upon his lips.

Wufei stared up at him, mind comprehending the words slowly as annoyance built up behind the motionless mask of his face. Then he made a movement, one that would have thrown their previous struggle back into action, but Zechs brought his face back down, touching, just barely, the tips of their noses together.

"Hey, 'Fei?" he whispered, voice rumbling with sincerity. "You wanna do something you _can_ win at?"

Laughter would no longer be foreign to that magnificent room, and unending silence had been thoroughly chased out.

And if the overemphasized lightness in the room was, indeed, picked up by any of the four, no one put it into words.

Because what they had been finding in the thick, dusty volumes, and the sudden complete silence from the dungeons beneath were awakening a churning sense of deep discomfort within each one. And banter, light hearted quarrel, with all its familiar ways and reactions, and the secret smiles that they each could now exchange without worry, they were...

They were comforting.

At least, for now.

There was something excruciatingly beautiful about this place. Maybe it was made more so because it seemed so very familiar, that no longer did he feel like the happiness that pulsed through his veins was something foreign that he wasn't entitled to. No. Now... now he knew that this place, the shimmering joy that enveloped him in warm familiarity... this belonged to him. It was his, welcoming him with open arms...

And with a contented sigh, Duo fell into open arms, their gentle strength embracing him as he reached out his own arms to envelop... him.

There was something painful now, sneaking through the edges of his joy, and a small frown parted him lips.

What was this? This... this didn't fit.

And as if the troubled thoughts had been sensed, the arms around him pulled him even closer, and the glorious warmth was chasing everything else away... Nothing mattered besides this...

Duo looked up, but he couldn't see a face there was so much light, blinding him, an intangible barrier between him and the one he loved. His fingers grasped around him – he was alone.

Why?

And his lips parted gently and he whispered, bereft:

_why?_

The light expanded and he held out a hand in front of him as anxiety pulsed through his body. But as he blinked furiously, he knew for sure that he could see nothing but the light, the awful wretched light, and he grasped at his hair and his throat as he tried to make sure... make sure that he was _real_...

And he heard it.

"_Duo?"_

He wanted to cry he was so happy. Someone caught him around the waist and he spun, and the light disappeared and for the first time ever he saw _him_ as utter contentment, _safety_ stemmed from his heart and spread around his body.

"Heero," he mouthed, and when he was acknowledged with a nod and a segment of a smile and the gentlest of pressure at his sides, where Heero's hands rested.

Duo saw now. He saw everything with stark clarity, unfaded, unjaded, ever so clear: the way Heero's hair gravitated to one side, the exact pigment of his skin, the way one of his eyes was just that bit bluer than the other, the way his smile seemed to linger longer than it wanted to, the curve of Heero's arms, and the way there was the slightest of indentations in the middle finger of his right hand...

And a smile split his face as he took one step back. And stretched one hand out in front of him, a movement that mocked time as something of no matter. Slowly, trembling but so completely sure – his hand was outstretched, reaching, his fingers slowly unfurling themselves from their half curved positions until his hand was opened up. Waiting.

And Heero knew, and Heero smiled.

_At him._

And Heero mirrored his actions, stretching out his own hand, the sight compelling Duo's heart to thunder within his chest, beneath his skin, thrumming through his blood.

Duo looked at their outstretched palms, the barest wisps of air separating them with the force of eternity...

But nothing could separate them now.

One moment, one movement sealed forever.

Their palms met; the simple act of touching colouring every part of Duo's entirety a different shade.

Duo inhaled.

_a different shade of gold..._

He looked _into_ Heero, saw his smile, heard what it commanded compelling him more powerfully than any uttered order could have.

_say it,_ it told him. _just... say it._

And Duo did. Because he had to. Because he wanted to. And because it was true.

"I..."

– the world paused –

_love you_, the wind finished. Swelling around them, sweeping him away, but he didn't want to leave, didn't ever want to part as it pulled them apart just as...

and the image of their hands, meeting palm to palm, burned itself into every recess of his mind with the utmost clarity.

Then there was the utmost silence, and he was cold.

Heero watched.

He felt, with every flicker of the candlelight behind him, the emptiness inside him stretching out, more ghastly and unbearable than the moment before.

Madness. Madness had caught up with him, at last. After centuries, formed by day after day, trudging along the path like the oldest and most fatigued of mares, it had caught up with him and possessed him.

And that boy, that man, that bard, had been the one to bring it upon him.

The hollow inside him stretched just that bit wider.

It was replaying in his mind, just that one scene. He couldn't bear it. Hearing their words, seeing himself, mind so completely separated from his body, the weakest of minds, one that had succumbed to the most grotesque crevices of himself...

And yet... hadn't that been the very part of his mind that had got him through his twisted shell of a life? Wasn't that tinge of insanity what made him move through each day, feared and whispered about and hated beyond any measure? Wasn't that what had made him smile inside every time he had seen a stupid little maiden approach him in the ways of a whore, and made him feel transcended as he reached out to touch her and was gifted with the view of the deadly fear that flooded her eyes the moment before he commanded to life to leave her body?

He hadn't wanted it.

He hadn't _wanted it!_

He had done _nothing_! His life had been forced onto him, from the moment it was given to the moment when everything was taken away, and even the twistedness of the thing he had now!

So why?

_Why...?_

The prince moved, with the gait of a drunkard and a madman, because he couldn't do anything but. His feet made no sound upon the ground even with all his clumsiness, refusing to acknowledge his existence in a way that made him proud. Then he crouched down, and studied the bard.

With his eyes closed, and the vividness of their violet color shut away, Heero noted their shape, and the curve of his eyelashes. His nose tilted up – he would always look young – vibrant. His ears peeked out beneath the fall of hair, unrestrained and uncaring of where it fell. And his lips... there was still the markings of that which Heero had forced upon them, the unusual redness of color, the slight bruising causing them to turn a red that looked almost painted upon...

Never before had Heero seen such a person, and it was only now, when he had nothing else but to – could do nothing else but – look at him that the truth of that struck the prince. In that moment, lying on the stone cold floor before Heero, the bard looked almost beyond human, stripped of his too-wide smile and the brightness of his eyes that always seemed to be tying him down to the world.

Sleeping, he had transcended it.

Heero curled his fingers into a familiar fist, the ache that surfaced now nothing to him. His eyes shifted from his hands to the exposed skin with its faint bumps from cold; his breathing felt ragged, heavy, the movements of his chest as he inhaled and exhaled seemed to be a gross exaggeration to him. Never before had Heero so mourned the loss of touch – never before had he felt such a need to do so.

What was happening to him, he wondered.

What was this... madness?

What was... this?

And sitting beside the bard, waiting as the last candle burned itself away, and without ever wanting to wonder why, Heero allowed himself to feel sad.

TBC

a/n: Sorry for the short-ish chapter. I'll try post extra quick (well, for me, I guess) to make up for it if I can. Ahh, and I've come to the decision that individual thanks are getting to be too time consuming. Apologies, but you'd much rather I spend the time writing more Heart, right? I _do _value all the reviews - so much. They're what keep me writing this fic, when it gets hard. You guys are too nice - so thank you all so much, I really appreciate it.

And again, sorry for the long wait. I keep intending to be quicker with updating, but it never quite pans out. Better late than never?

Thanks in particular to Kimiki, for still being willing to beta for me! And to all reviewers: asia lisek, cherry fantasy, zuzu, DaughterofDeath, WannaPlayKevinBacon, GoldenRat, Pandora-chan, Serenity a.k.a. Serena, Epoch Everlasting, Onee-sama, Nikkler, jess-eklom, I.S., Spark of Life, tyleet88, keiichisei, Redroseprincess678, Hitokimi, Natasha AKA Tash and Jen Red Robe.


	16. fifteen

Chapter Fifteen 

There was a brief shuddering exhalation, long and deep. Then with one last, reluctant yawn, Duo stretched out his arms above his head, feeling the straining of his muscles before lowering his arms once more. His lips parted so that he could breathe through his lips, and finally, lastly, his eyes opened unwillingly.

Although perhaps, if he had known what was awaiting him within the world of sight, he would not have waited quite so long before entering it. But Duo hadn't seen him yet... instead, his eyes fell in front of him.

Upon a space in the wall opposite him were the remnants of what had been a candle the night before. It had burnt itself completely out, and now the wax had pooled around the base. Duo chastised himself, briefly wondering why he hadn't remembered to blow it out before he fell asleep.

Then Duo wondered what he had been doing, to wind up falling asleep upon cold stone floor – and now he flushed – stripped of all his outer garments.

Then slowly, as his mind was so prone to doing when it had the luxury, bits and pieces of his surroundings and his life previous to the shelter of sleep began to piece themselves together.

His mind filtered in the information that something, thin and utterly warm, was covering him, head to toe, and he craned his neck upwards and aimed his eyes downwards to try and discover what that was.

It was a cloak, intricately woven and made of individual threads of something that shimmered, looking impossibly like... gold. It looked familiar, and the bard strained to try and place where he had seen it before.

When he remembered, he thought for a second that it couldn't be true. Because already, something was reminding him of how he had wound up upon stone floor in the first place. And of course, the memories were immediately made ugly by the echoing of words within his ears: 'Get out.'

Such words would ordinarily have caused Duo's heart to pump furiously, but in a painful paradox, it seemed to him that it had slowed to an unwilling, irregular thumping within his chest. Perhaps the truth of... everything had already been worked into his skin during his brief bout of... madness, had it been? And with that, everything inside him had had a chance to become acclimated with the fact, and now... now...

It was real. It was the truth.

Heero had... attacked him. Without any opportunity to convey his abhorrence for Duo through his hands, he had sought out another way, and that way...

Duo choked. The memory of how Heero had... touched him, like that, brought their lips together and made it the most hurtful moment of his life...

Duo had never been kissed before. But that... that hadn't been a kiss.

But really, the thing that made his saddest was that something inside, small and alone, kept whispering: "It wasn't supposed to be like that. I didn't want it... like _that_."

So... what _did_ he want?

It didn't take long before his eyes, wandering around disorientated, as he pulled himself upwards into a sitting position, fell upon a sight that answered that question – just perhaps in a way that didn't seem like it would help him whatsoever.

Just barely any distance away from where Duo's head had lain just moments ago, was the prince. And never before had he looked quite so princely – who but a prince could look regal whilst sitting on stone floor, with his legs crossed, back upright... and sleeping.

The sun was basking downwards gently through the small window, highlighting the pool of wax, and though there was no other candle around to indicate the time of day Duo felt sure it was well into noontime.

So how long had the prince been there? Had he... had he watched as Duo lasped into a different frame of mind to the one he usually survived with? Had he heard Duo as Duo sang because the words and the music needed a way out? Had he seen Duo shed his garments because he could no longer stand their touch upon his skin?

And then Duo fingered the golden cloth – it was made of gold threads, no doubt about that, yet it was the softest thing he had ever known – and he flushed.

It was hard to know exactly what Duo was feeling. It was like every part of himself that mattered wanted to embrace a different emotion – and at polar extremes were his head, with something hot and hard and angry, and his heart, with something warm and soft and tender.

Instead of either, the silence rushing against his ears was what induced his body to move. Movement was something that the bard had always felt most at comfort with – it was real, it was tangible, and it blocked out the still of nothingness. He stood, ignoring the ache in his legs, and pulled on his outer clothing deftly after removing them from where they had been strewn.

He picked up the cloak, running his hands softly along the edge, smiling at its subtle beauty. Then he straightened it out and draped it lightly over the prince's shoulders.

He turned towards the large exit of the room, already directing his feet towards his chambers. Maybe it was... time to leave.

Staying in one place for too long had never really been good for him.

His steps were barely present upon the floor. He was one movement away from exiting the room, and he told himself not to look backwards one last time. His head was too troubled, there was too much undecided, too much confused. Looking back would... not help.

Somewhere between awakening and walking away, he had decided to leave.

"My mother made it for me."

Duo's breath hitched; he felt his eyes burn.

"Just a month after the curse, she told me to turn spool after spool of thread gold. Then after we rarely saw her – I thought she detested the sight of her cursed son. When I did I never even noticed that her fingers had grown callous, her hands and eyes worn. But thirty-seven moons later, she called me to her. And she gave it to me.

"I thought it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen."

Duo parted his lips, but only to draw in a shuddering breath. His eyes fell shut as the low voice became the only thing to exist, reverberating through his skin.

"And even now, after all the things forced to take on gold... I still think it is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.

"That is," Heero uttered, haltingly, "Other than – you."

A visible shudder wrecked Duo's shoulders – breath became a thing of the past.

"There was... madness. A madness, in the air, flooding us. And some of us... some of us deal with madness slightly better than others."

Duo bit on the cuff of his sleeve. He was waiting – there was something else in the air, too, hovering over them, something that needed to be said, something he needed to hear...

"Duo..."

And that would have done it. That would have been enough. His name, said like that, so reverently, like it was a prayer or a spell or molten love...

"I'm sorry, Duo."

And enough was transcended. The walls of nighttime, casing in the bad and locking out the good were stripped away like the particles of air, nonexistent in the brightness of the sun and Duo's smile.

Suddenly there was nothing between them any longer. Duo was standing at Heero's back; the prince hadn't moved at all. Duo bent down, pressing his cheek, warm and red, against the curve of Heero's neck as he crouched down.

"Thank you Heero." The whisper ghosted in the air.

Tense lines gripped the prince's strong shoulders still, as he said, "You won't leave, will you..."

And if he couldn't quite make that into a question, Duo didn't mind.

"No," said the bard, sliding his arms around Heero. "No."

And that, for the moment, was enough to see them through.

---

Quatre wasn't _worried_ about Duo... not really.

It was just that... well... he had taken that volume – the one that he had made quite sure that Duo would never set eyes upon – along with him when they had all decided that the moon had been present long enough to warrant them going to bed. He hadn't meant to sit up all night, burning out the first candle and lighting the second, pouring through the pages and feeling an uncomfortable lump of lead grow within his stomach.

When they had set out on this... journey, Quatre had barely half a hope that this... this was _it_. Of course, he knew that Duo was special... he just hadn't entertained the thought that maybe, _he_ was too. That the duty of guiding the one with the heart of gold laid upon _him_. That although he had been raised exactly "in the right way", and spent all his life making sure that his family name and the prestige that it carried with it was upheld, he hadn't really thought that the 'job' would fall upon him.

Because right now, he didn't really want it.

Because right now, he didn't want to be the one to make sure that Duo broke the curse.

...No one really knew what would happen to the 'one with the heart of gold'. Not after the curse was broken.

Because it was written in the tome that, just as a curse is brought into being, so, thereafter, will the one with the power to break it. Not the one who applied the curse – for that life was tainted irrevocably – but one utterly pure, shaped and molded into being by Fate herself. The knowledge of how to break the curse would lie within this one, and from deep within the soul it would make itself known.

But... this one, this curse breaker, this 'one with the heart of gold'... it – _he_, Quatre thought angrily – was brought into being for this sole purpose – to end the curse and bring into the world a new way of life.

So when his work was done, what would happen to it?

That – nowhere was it written.

So although Quatre's heritage demanded of him that he do anything to ensure that Duo – for he was, no doubt, the one with the heart of hold – was able to end the curse as quickly as possible, his heart only wanted him to be Duo's friend – and as such, demanded that he do anything to ensure that Duo would be kept safe – before _and_ after the curse was broken.

Quatre had wondered why his grandfather and his sisters had always looked at him with this... sad, poignant smile, each time they told him that he could be the special one, the one who would guide the curse breaker and open the pathway for him.

It hadn't ended up that way, though. From the very start of their acquaintance, Duo had been the leader, the one who always smiled the brightest and tried the hardest. Duo had led them here, Duo had caught the prince's interest and held it, all on his very own. A testament then, not to his status as the curse breaker, but to the bard's personality. And what a one it was.

Slowly, Quatre and decided, more and more, that he needed to find out what lay ahead for the 'one with the heart of gold'.

He didn't know if he could live with himself, the knowledge that perhaps Duo had gone into it thinking that he would save the prince, save Hei, while really he was rushing into his own demise.

If the end of the curse meant the end of Duo, then the bard deserved to know.

And it was Quatre's _duty_ to make sure that if it was indeed true, Duo knew about it.

No matter what his family would have said, Quatre knew that his grandfather would have understood, and maybe, even done the same.

"It's awfully dark in here," said a low, familiar voice.

It was like the words had reached inside him and warmed up a part of him he hadn't known was cold. The blond blinked ahead of him, as his eyes accustomed themselves to the dull light floating into the hazy black room.

"You're... up," Quatre said, softly.

"I was up since sunrise. I suppose you didn't sleep until moments before then?" Sharp green eyes spotted the heavy volume with ease and it was impossible for Quatre to miss the accusation aimed for him.

"Something like that," he admitted. A lie wouldn't do much good, and really – he didn't need to lie! He was fully grown and responsible for himself.

"I'm worried," Trowa said, and although nothing about his intonation supported the words, Quatre knew he meant them.

"I... I am too," he acquiesced. Perhaps Trowa felt it too. The pressure of their position – the way the future of Hei depended upon each moment they spent with Duo. (And Quatre would not allow himself to feel sad, would not allow the notion that maybe all he really wanted was the friendship of the bard.)

"It makes me uncomfortable, knowing that somehow, some part of the sorcerer is still present in our world. As if enough of a challenge wasn't already presented in the form of the curse – which, as it stands, we hardly know anything about!"

And therein was the other problem, the other itch against his skin, the problem that wouldn't go away. Because that wasn't supposed to have happened. This – tinge of evil, this air of madness. He hadn't lied to Duo completed when he had said that he didn't know how the prince could have lived so long in this palace without once feeling it. That tenseness, that strain against every moment. And it all came down to that one man, locked up in the dungeon, and with too many bonds with their group – oh, Zechs! – for comfort.

How could he have gone so wrong?

How could it all have gone so wrong?

Quatre still couldn't forget that a girl had _died_ - while they had been in the very same castle grounds. The sounds of her scream was still too easily remembered for him. And while Quatre was sure that more than ten times the number had perished at Heero's hands, this was different. It had been _bloodshed_.

His hands had been pulling anxiously at each other, nails scratching lightly against skin as he mulled over too many things.

"Quatre?" He started slightly, and flushed, knowing that he shouldn't. That he should have sensed Trowa's presence, ever real and always comforting, by the side of his bed.

"Yes?" he asked, looking up slightly and trying to force every figment of worry from his eyes.

He needn't have worried. Trowa's face grew closer and his body knew how to cope with what came next much better than his mind did. Eyelids falling shut, he tilted his head slightly to the side so that Trowa's lips slid easily across his. The warmth, the softness of the touch was nice, sweeter than he could have remembered, and he shifted slightly as the bed did, reaching up to entangle fingers with hair at the base of Trowa's neck.

When the green-eyed man pulled away, Quatre allowed it only unwillingly. Trowa didn't move very far. Keeping his gaze locked tightly with Quatre's, he knelt down on the floor from his half-bent position. Then he smiled, the tiniest risings of his lips, which still caused the same thrill to resound within Quatre's chest.

"I meant," he murmured, "I'm worried about _you_."

And with that he bumped noses with Quatre, an uncharacteristic motion that, along with his words, caused a bright, truthful smile to form upon the blond's face.

"Thank you," Quatre whispered, meaning it with every inch of his being. "Thank you."

Pushing the unwanted volume to one side, Quatre inclined backwards – taking the taller man with him. And he buried his face in the juncture between Trowa's collarbone and shoulder and tucked himself between the willing body and the comfort of the bed, allowing Trowa to help him remember the nicer things that the world also offered.

---

Heero hadn't known quite what to do when he woke, utterly chilled to the bone. It had been quite a passage of time since he had last experienced cold – and this made him uncomfortable. He wanted to remedy the situation immediately – and it wasn't only the cold that was an annoyance. There was a strain in his muscles at the slightest of movements, an irritating reminder that he had not warmed down and stretched his limbs after that last vigorous exercise.

Then again, he hadn't really had a chance to...

He had lost control of himself. That was... unacceptable. But that had never happened before. Not that hot fury, that rushing of blood accompanying the angry whispers of the voices inside his head. They had stirred something guttural, something – mad. Something he didn't like to think lay within him.

No – always, he would deal with things his way – methodically, coolly, calmly. That something yesterday was none of those things. Somewhere between the patterns something else had taken over.

Heero was furious with himself for it.

After that, though – watching the bard, watching every movement as the braided man seemed to enter a world entirely within his head – that had been none of the prince, and every inch of Heero. That – he had to take responsibility for.

Ending up in a sitting position beside the bard – and letting the other man rise before him – that, he too had to take complete responsibility for.

He wasn't quite so furious with himself for that part, though. He could still remember that fey, ethereal smile that had danced over Duo's lips – a smile he hadn't known could possibly exist in this world, or any world that Heero would ever get a chance to see.

That smile would take place in the recesses of his mind and never leave him alone.

Yet, after Heero had regained consciousness, he hadn't moved at all, even with all the protests of his body. Because the bard had been shifting, rising, readying himself. And Heero didn't want to draw his attention – who knew what Duo would think. Heero had just wanted to... watch.

And through lidded eyes, giving every impression of still being asleep, he had.

It was only when the bard approached him that Heero had sealed his eyes completely shut. So it had been quite a surprise when he began feeling a cloak – his cloak – being draped around him.

The motion had jerked something warm within his gut. It was similar to the one that had induced him to throw the cloak over the bard the night before. And he told himself that he didn't know what it was.

Yet still, when he had aimed one last look at the bard, there was something flickering in his violet eyes that Heero didn't like. It hadn't been _hard_, no, nor _determined_, either. Just... something, something that made Heero worry. Something that made _somewhere_ inside of him protest.

And he had spoken before he had known, wincing internally at each word that slipped out of his mouth to hang, awkward, halting, in the air surrounding them. He had though, for a moment, that the words were blocking the bard out, forming some impenetratable barrier.

_/"You won't leave, will you..."/_

It had seemed, however, that somehow, instead the words had made a... a bubble, to hold just the two of them.

_/"No."/_

And now the bard was wrapped around him, and Heero was no longer cold.

"You alright?" Duo asked, the layers of his voice enfolding them like a shelter.

"Yes," Heero said, pressing almost imperceptibly closer against Duo's warm skin.

It was all he needed to say. It was all Duo could have asked of him, at that moment, because it made the horror fade away, into a past that wielded no power.

---

Wufei had been pacing the halls of the castle for quite a while now. The stretch of time didn't really bother him much, because he had always enjoyed walks – particularly those of a long nature, hour upon hour. One day when he had been young, ten or eleven, Zechs had joined him on one of those walks. They hadn't talked much, really – they spoke more sparring than they had that day. Yet... during that walk, something had shifted inside the proud young boy, something that had told him that he _needed_ that tall boy to walk beside him. Wherever he went, and whatever he did, Zechs simply... had to be there too.

And though he had never spoken about his thoughts to Zechs – it became a rare occurrence that Wufei ever went on a walk without the blonde. Even when it was simply a stroll from one side of Ran to the other, perhaps on some menial errand or other, whenever Wufei felt it necessary for him to take the longer way home, stretch out the comfortable expanded moment as he placed one foot in front of another... If Zechs had been by his side – and he so often was – his friend would never say anything. He would follow, matching Wufei step for step, turn for turn – even the gentle puffs of air as they breathed in unison.

So it was no different this time. He and Zechs – they had walked through villages and woods, forests and fields, even that one time when it had began to snow in Ran. That had been a wonderful winter, walking more than they ever had before, and Wufei would secretly glance behind them to see matching footprints and a rush of warmth would materialise within him.

Now they could add Royal Palace of Hei to that list.

Wufei _knew_ this wasn't the time for long, leisurely walks. And that if he had wanted to go for a proper walk, there were gardens the size of Ran that he could have chosen instead.

But when he wanted to walk, he walked, and he had never questioned that.

Zechs had never questioned that either.

And he wasn't doing so now.

If Wufei listened carefully, he could hear the sound of their feet brushing the ground at exactly the same time, blending together to form one synonymous sound. That and their own light breathing brushing the air was all the sound to fill the wide hallways, and though it had the potential to become uncomfortable and oppressive, for the moment it was just enough to make it very, very nice.

The dark-haired man felt the light, intangible brush of air against his arm. He waited, and the slightest segment of time later he felt familiar fingers wrap over his own.

This, they had never done before.

Wufei didn't know what he should have been feeling when he felt Zechs' fingers slide against his as their hands grasped lightly at each other. And when their hands were linked firmly – he didn't exactly know what he was feeling at that time either.

But he didn't let go.

And next time, he thought firmly, it would be he who would reach out to take Zechs' hand.

A few steps down, he paused briefly. At the corner of his eye, he caught a small figure darting around the corner directly before and to the left of them.

"Hey!" he called, before the word was processed.

The figure froze, and Wufei almost – _almost_ – felt guilty. When it didn't make any move to come closer, Wufei sighed and used a few quick steps to lessen the distance.

"What's your name?" he demanded, with faith in himself that there was a reason he was questioning this boy. But servants in this place were so far and few between – they sure kept out of sight to an almost admirable extent – that any chance to... converse with any of them should really be appreciated.

The small boy blinked, and his shoulders visibly slumped. "Eliot," he muttered unhappily. When he rose his eyes from the ground they paused and narrowed halfway up their journey towards Wufei's face. When Wufei's eyes darted to whatever had caught the boy's attention, he blinked.

Zechs' hand.

So that meant... he looked beside him, and standing there was Zechs, smiling amiably at the boy before glancing at Wufei. There was a tight squeeze of his hand before, incomprehensibly, Zechs bent downwards quickly and laid a firm kiss on the oriental man's lips.

"Hey, 'Fei," he said lightly, smile flitting over his face like light. Tugging Wufei closer to him, the blond turned his attention back towards the boy.

"Sorry," he apologised, hardly meaning it. "Wufei doesn't function well in the morning."

That was a lie. And...

"It's past noontime," the boy objected, eyes seeming rather... stretched.

"Yes, well, small details. 'Fei wanted to ask you something, and I'm sure it had something to do with your possible knowledge of the whereabouts of the Prince's – or our friend the bard."

Wufei narrowed his eyes at the other man. How had he known? Wufei had barely known.

Zechs winked.

"Dunno," the boy muttered, looking as if he was very close to darting away and quite out of sight.

"You really, really do," Zechs insisted, still smiling placidly.

There was a heavy pause before Eliot seemed to decide these people were not really worth his time. "Sparring room," he said at last, before thinking some more and deciding to add, "I think."

"Thank you," Zechs acknowledged politely. "We appreciate your help. Did they seem to have harmed each other?"

"They were sleeping," Eliot said, smirking, before he blinked. "I think."

"On the floor?" Zechs wondered.

"S'right," Eliot nodded. "Though Prince Heero he was sitting all... upright like. But he was sleeping. I could tell."

"You like to use the weapons in the sparring room, don't you, Eliot," Zechs said lightly.

The boy jerked. His face grew wary. "What? Uh... sir. I dunno what you're talking about."

"You've got calluses on all the fingers on your right hand," the blond noted, "and when 'Fei called out, you stood straighter than any boy your age would have." Before the boy could offer any protest, Zechs continued, "How old are you anyhow, Eliot?"

"Twelve," the boy said, frowning. "They... they say I'm small. I... I hate it. I _hate_ it."

Zechs tilted his head up slightly, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "I knew someone who was small for his age," he murmured, as he ran his fingers over the back of Wufei's hand. "I can assure you – he turned out pretty well." The blond smiled reassuringly at the boy. "You'll be fine – I can assure you too of that."

Eliot blinked. Then a slow, cautious smile spread across his face as words seemed to, momentarily, escape him. As he studied Zechs face, he asked curiously, "Aren't you... they say that you're... you know... _his_ son."

"_His_ son?" Zechs' voice was quite normal, but Wufei could feel him tense as if they had been pressed against each other.

The boy sensed a change, too, and his posture inclined slightly backwards, defensive. "Yeah – that's just what they're saying."

"If you mean that man that's currently locked up in the dungeons... we had ties, yes. Everyone has someone ugly in their lives, no?" Zechs' face had taken on a strained appearance; lips pressed tighter together, eyes tense and severe, now that much smaller.

Eliot made as if to leave, but Zechs held up a hand.

"Wait. Elliot – perhaps if you wouldn't mind... helping us?" The taller man was visibly making an effort to sound relaxed, and it was working, to a certain extent.

"Help?" the boy was cautious – but he couldn't be blamed. It was almost commendable.

"Yes. Only if you decide you want to, of course. We would appreciate it utterly, but it is merely a request, not an... order." When Eliot showed no signs of argument, Zechs went on. "You seem to be a good sort of observer," he told the boy honestly. "I think you watch people – I think you notice him. I want you to make your way down to the dungeons – take a friend if you wish – and watch _that man_. Don't let him see you – don't make it obvious. You have a task in the dungeons – you are just doing your job. You fade into the background, okay? You all seem to be fine hands at that. But if anything seems uncomfortable or dangerous – leave. Do what you can, and I will be more than happy."

It was obvious the boy was going to be more than willing to accept the task. He was nodding eagerly, an enthused expression on his face. But there was a thoughtful expression in the back of his eyes that made Wufei think that Zechs wasn't quite so insane.

"I'll help you," Eliot said, "I don't mind. I can... I can do that." He smiled briefly, and half-turned to leave, he paused. "I never liked him anyway," he said, only half-directed at them. "Even when he first came – I never really liked him." And he darted around the corner, disappearing quickly.

Zechs watched the small form go, before turning to look at the smaller man. "I have reasons," he offered, smiling, before he noticed that the look on Wufei's face wasn't one of questions.

If Zechs couldn't quite determine what it was, he didn't have time to wonder. Quite impulsively, Wufei stepped forward and clutched at the tall blond, ever so quickly, before letting go.

Because Wufei had been surprised to find himself becoming an observer of what had passed between Zechs and the boy – and even more surprised to find himself quite content in that role. It was not because of what Zechs had so wrongly said (and the other man knew he was wrong, too!) – Wufei was most definitely a 'morning person'. But he had felt no need to enter into the conversation, felt no words bubble up within him as he listened.

It really hadn't been necessary.

Zechs was a remarkable person, Wufei had decided. Oh, he had known that, known that ever since he had first been born and Zechs had stood by a small babe's bed.

But now, Wufei knew for once and for all: Zechs was remarkable, in a way completely different from all the other humans who cluttered up this world.

And whether it was because the man walked beside him and soothed his mind, or because he could rouse up the most emotion Wufei had ever known, or because Zechs could smile quite so gently at the small boy before him... whether it was because Zechs was content to follow as Wufei made his own way, or because he made Wufei utterly willing to follow along with the other man...

Zechs was remarkable. And Zechs wanted to be with him.

Yes – once again, for Wufei, something lit up inside.

And he smiled at Zechs, a broad, warm smile, and they continued walking down the hallway, fingers clasped contentedly, the sound of steps and soft breathing linking them together.

---

He knew what he had to do now. His eyes, glazed, stared upwards as he chewed at his finger, layer of dry skin over flesh and bone.

It had been made clear now. The time had come when, without forcing his own way, he would follow the steps along the path that had been paved for him.

He would not fail this time. Because the bastard son would wait – and hurt all the more for it when his time came – and it would come.

For now, he would follow the silken instructions, one by one, all leading up to the end, when his princess would rise and he would see her in her glory. At the end, when all the scum had withered and the last of the bitch's blood had been drenched by the earth. When he would spit and laugh, and be led up onto the pedestal where he would be honoured with all glory.

He shuddered, excitement coursing though half-burnt veins. Nerves trembling with anticipation, he envisioned the boy, begging to be spared, before him. Swathed in his auburn locks, there would be so much blood... and wide violet eyes, opened till the end...

Lovely, he gasped – the chill of the walls no longer ate away at his skin. It would be so lovely...!

And maybe... maybe he would be given the eyes at the end. Those wide, violet eyes...

He so _did_ love the colour purple...

---

A/N: Thanks to Kimiki, who's still picking up my idiocies fifteen chapters in... And to **_everyone_** who reviewed and made me very, very happy. This is for you!

I'm long winded, aren't I. Sorry, but this seems to be the writing style this story has fallen into, and try as might, I can't seem to change it.! I hope that if you've made it this far, it means that you don't mind (or have gotten used to it) – it seems to fit rather well, now, even, with the epic-esq-ness of this! I know there's a lot of reflection, but I'm attempting build up. Feel free to shoot constructive criticism at me if you have any. I sense a general confusion, which might only get worse… hope the elements of fluff make up for it!

I guess now would be an appropriate time to insert my usual 'I'm late and terribly sorry' grovel. I really do apologise, but time seems to take on a life of its own and I can't quite keep up. It doesn't help that I'm finding writing awfully hard at the moment… I hope the block passes, and the next chapter will be up sooner rather than later!


	17. sixteen

p.MSONORMAL mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; li.MSONORMAL mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; div.MSONORMAL mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; h1 mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; p.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; li.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; div.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; p.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT2 mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; li.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT2 mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; div.MSOBODYTEXTINDENT2 mso-bidi-font-size:12pt; span.SPELLE mso-spl-e:yes; span.GRAME mso-gram-e:yes;

Chapter Sixteen kiss me sweetly, softly, gently 

Heero had started looking at him quite some time ago. Out of the corner or his eye, yes, and subtly also, but he had been looking never the less.

Duo had been content to let it continue, curious as to the reason but unwilling to do anything that could put the serenity of the moment into jeopardy. No – serenity had not somehow not quite fit, not when Duo could feel troubled torrents of worry trickling through his skin. But the sheer magnitude of troubles demanding his attention was so great that it had rendered him perfectly willing to simply sink into the present, tucking all other things to the back of his mind where he could convince himself that they didn't matter.

And then there was that other thing too.

The very fact that Duo was sitting, knees folded beneath him, half-behind and half-beside Heero, who he also happened to have two arms draped around. Most importantly, the prince was almost, very nearly, leaning back into his touch.

That was to say...

Duo was happy.

Not quite deliriously so; he had never really felt that sort of blind emotion, contrary to what those who thought they knew him would think. From a young age, Duo had discovered his ability to slide a wide, overflowing smile upon his face, no matter what it was he held inside. Maybe, that ability to connect to something that should have been reserved for those rare, shining moments, had somehow dampened his ability to embrace those quiet moments of joy the way they deserved to be.

Yet now, although the floor was cold and his knees were cramped, he recognized the entry of happiness, thudding against his body, and he beckoned it in willingly. Indulging. That was what he was doing. Indulging in the way all those dreams, the ones that had so bothered and worried him, had woven their way into his wakening moments and channeled themselves into creating this – the prince, in his arms, and Duo, happy.

And then Heero had started looking at him.

It was, in no way, a bad look. It almost held a certain warmth within it, though Duo couldn't completely ascertain that from the brief glimpses he got of eyes flickering over him. He wanted to move around to see the prince's face, along with whatever expression hovered upon it, and so even though it meant sacrificing the way he had wrapped himself around Heero, he did. Tilting forward, reluctantly relinquishing the hold he had upon the other man, the bard brought his face around to align perfectly with the prince's own.

It struck Duo, then, all at once, just how heartbreakingly beautiful the prince really was. Somehow, the years had chiseled away at his face: the strong jaw, regal nose, lips, so oft curling downwards, now happily relaxed. The curve of his eyes, his eyelids, the arc of his eyebrows, all so very dark against the stunning cobalt of his irises.

Duo thought he might have gasped, but he was sure it was more of a very deep inhalation of breath. After all, he had not only seen the prince before, he had _seen_ the prince before. He _knew_ Heero – as much as he deemed it possible for any other being to. But now, something in the air, something churning inside, demanded him to recognize and embrace an emotion he didn't know if he could.

When Heero locked eyes with him, Duo suddenly realized the depth that blue eyes could have, a depth he had never before dared to imagine, except in his dreams. Cobalt, and so like the ocean that Duo had only ever seen once in his life. It would be so easy to tumble into them, yet if he did, would he be able to surface, or would he simply sink until there was nowhere further to sink to, eventually crashing painfully at the end?

Only the spirits could imagine, and Duo chastised himself for the way his mind had veered into things that utterly did not matter. He was _here_, he was so _very_ near the prince, and that was so much more than he could have dreamed of, at the very start of all this.

"Amazing," he murmured lightly, resisting the urge to lean in and dust his eyelashes against Heero's cheek. The prince was ever-so-lightly dusted with a faint color that would have been a blush on any other person, and his eyes fell slightly, half-lidded, even as he clasped Duo's gaze with his own.

And then Duo really gasped, because it all came falling down when a smile, different from anything before, passed across Heero's face.

It was as if he had been ignoring everything his mind – heart? – had been trying to tell him, but the sight of that slight, not-quite curving of lips made it all jarringly obvious.

He loved Heero.

That was the word, the one word that gathered up all his dreams and all his fears and his hopes. That personified the thickness trapped in his throat, the one that wrapped up each nuance of emotion trapped in his chest and within the thing he liked to think of as his soul. It existed now, in the forefront of his mind, linked irrevocably with the man, the prince, his Heero, before him now.

And it scared him, more than anything had before, because he had sung the songs a thousand times before, and if this was love, then love meant hurt, and hurt would shatter his heart.

"Duo?" Heero asked. His voice was utterly lovely, deep and rolling in a way Duo couldn't compare anything to. And Duo couldn't help it – he smiled, closed his eyes, and shook his head gently.

'Love is joy,' he remembered Bard Maxwell saying to him, as the older man brushed his hair. They never spoke of these things, never did these things in the daylight. But when it was night, and the sky was black all around them, with only the flickering of the fire to define light and shadows in the place. The words had echoed then as they echoed now in his mind; and he thought he had forgotten them, but some things were simply unforgettable.

When Duo opened his eyes, the prince had shifted neared still to the bard, until there was only the barest breath of air passing between them. Something trapped in Heero's eyes was struggling to get out, so desperately that the cobalt became almost unreadable.

But Duo knew what would happen, and Duo... Duo was glad. Just one thing worried him, one thing caused his breath to hitch in a way that wasn't completely _good_...

"Can we do this right?" he asked, mouth dry and breathing heavy, whispering because he couldn't quite decide if he wanted the words to be real. They hovered, indecisive.

Then suddenly, they were.

Duo's eyes falling shut of their own accord, he tilted his head slightly, the way he thought he should. Their noses bumped gently as they moved closer, the heavy, erratic thumping of his heard doing little to sooth the fear that had sneaked into his chest.

The moment they touched, everything was swept away with the one realization: This was how it should be. This was right.

And Duo spread into a grin inside, as he moved his lips tentatively against Heero's. They were warm and dry, and filled the bard with the buoyant feeling of falling in the opposite direction. And it was comforting, spreading from the inside out and skimming the sides of his mind and his skin.

Yes. This was what Duo wanted. This was the way it felt, when he ended the song on just the right note, when his lute captured the perfect chord in the vibrating of its strings, when Heero's skin was warm against his own and Heero's lips were moving, and they were touching, Heero was touching him in the way his fingers could not – soft and light and careful and wanting.

The kiss didn't end – it just paused, suspended between them as they both drew back enough for the tips of their noses to bump ever-so-lightly.

And Duo grinned so widely, the feeling of something overflowing, threatening to bubble uncontrollably over the edges of his body pulsing within. He would have tried to hold it in, had that been at all possible. But Heero – Heero was smiling, just so, the barest of curves rising at the tips of his lips, enough that Duo knew it was okay for the other man to see inside him. The way he could see inside Heero, his beautiful eyes saturated in the most heartbreaking glow the world could have created, and giving breath to the emotion existing within.

The bard chuckled, a pleased, warm sound that started in a place deep, deep inside and made its way out. And he placed a kiss at the corner of Heero's lips, and told him, seriously, "That was very right."

--

It was a strange situation that Quatre found himself in, the very next morning that he awoke.

Ever since their arrival at the royal palace, and more so in the advent of the recent happenings, he had found his usual daily routine dissolve to the point where he barely remembered it at all. Of course he would have expected change, even to a significant extent – at the start, they had been travelers, and traveling had a routine all of its own. With their arrival, a whole other way of life had surfaced. Away from his village and immersed within a palace that had only existed within ancient tomes until the very moment before he stepped foot in it, it was obvious that adaptations were needed.

It would have been nice, had those adaptations not meant having to hear the remnants of a dying scream, but it was getting better, now. What that man had done, what he _could_ have done, were beginning to fade from Quatre's immediate thoughts, filled in by the other thing that greatly troubled him – Duo, the Prince, and the curse.

Because never before had the curse seemed so very cruel, so very real, until Duo had been brought in direct alignment with it.

So with the near complete chaos, firstly in action, and secondly within his thoughts, Quatre had passed each day with little order at all. For the first time, while he knew there were things to be done, he did not, could not, place a time-frame upon them, nor quite feel the acute need to gather everything into a certain state of affairs.

Perhaps it was because Wufei seemed so aptly capable, rushing around with his books and his scrolls, and Zechs so quietly content to aid him whenever needed. Perhaps it was because Quatre felt – though albeit guiltily – that he had already done what was necessary. He had steered Duo in the right direction, he had placed the most appropriate books and writings before Wufei, and really, nothing more was being demanded from him.

And then there was Trowa. Even more breathtakingly wonderful that Quatre could ever recall him being, the green-eyed man who had never, ever, been far from Quatre's side, was ensuring that even when he was plagued with worry, a certain, almost selfish warmth never left his insides. He could not place more beautiful sunsets, nor sunrises, since he had been able to reach out for the other man, pull him close, submerse himself with the warmth, the comfort, the familiarity that Trowa so easily offered.

Yes, really, at this stage Quatre should have been more than acquainted with change, for better or for worse.

But he didn't think that he had ever before awoken to Duo, with quite the pensive face, crouched at eye-level with Quatre's head as the blond rested against his pillow, only half of him awake.

Thus, Duo's name was all the small blond could manage, as he pulled himself up, away from the warm grasp of the soft headrest. Apparently Duo did not require verbosity, for his face lightened as he saw Quatre's eyes open and take on greater coherence. Then he leant, closer still, head angled upwards as he allowed a tentative parting of lips, vastly contrasting the barely contained eagerness that flashed behind his eyes.

"He has a certain... brilliance to him," Duo enthused, when he finally spoke in a low voice that rightfully should not have had the ability to convey such an exuberant emotion.

Would that he had been more of an early-morning riser, Quatre was sure that he would have been able to arrange his expression into one slightly more refined than just plain bewilderment. However, that hardly seemed to matter to the bard whatsoever, because Duo simply shifted himself so that he was once more at eye level with the blond, lifting himself up so he was securely positioned upon the bedspread. Then the bard leaned backwards to gaze at the ceiling unhurriedly. Quatre followed the direction of his eyes, and for the first time realized that the colour of the ceiling above him was a unique, sandy-white colour that he found pleasing to the eye, and had never quite seen before.

How long, he wondered briefly, has this shade continued existing within this room? No wearing away of colour, no sign of aging was to be found anywhere within the entire royal palace. Every wall and cornerstone seemed determined to cling to youthful vitality for as long as the prince was deemed by fate to do the same.

The silence and still had stretched out without his knowing, but when the small blond looked towards Duo for any sign of discomfort over that, he found none. Instead, there was a strangely pensive expression blanketed over Duo's expressive features, a sort of half-look to his face – half ponderous, half joyful, half wondrous, half afraid.

And who could blame him?

Quatre struggled briefly to recall Duo's first, only, words, and after he did so left a moment to construct his response. There was a certain thoughtful air within the chamber, but Quatre was unsure whether to attribute to the way he had been feeling in the recent days, or to the rise of emotion he felt as he looked upon the expression on Duo's countenance.

"He...?" he decided upon at last, wanting to make sure of the not-so mysterious identity before launching into anything more significant.

"Heero," Duo said easily, and a soft smile played across his lips.

Quatre felt a smile of his own cross his face. "Oh?" he asked, making sure to conceal the rush of relief he felt, and only allow the slightest fondness to show.

"Yes," Duo stated firmly. "Quatre," he began again, violet eyes widening slightly. "I just... I felt like I needed – I wanted – to tell you. Because... honestly, I don't really know what I'm doing with him. I don't, and especially not right now, what with all the _other_ things I know I should be thinking about instead. So I was hoping... I could talk to you?"

"Of course!" Quatre exclaimed, sincerity emanating of its own accord. "I haven't exactly been thrilled with myself, after what I said to you. I just wanted to make sure that you would not get hurt, and perhaps I didn't make that clear in the best way." And that, certainly, was more than true. The thought of Duo being hurt was no happy one, reaching beyond the normal extensions of empathy that Quatre was apt to experience for most people around him, at one time or another.

Duo was special, and whether that was because he was chosen, or in spite of being chosen, it was undisputable. The genuine streak Quatre saw made the blond hope – really, really hope – that the ending of the curse would not be a cruel one, or that the actions of _that_ _man_ had not been some awful foreshadowing of the future.

It occurred to Quatre, then, just how much time had passed since the incident with Duo in the library. It had been too long, really – how easy it was to get lost within the endless corridors and the almost ethereal existence of time within this place. When Quatre voiced this thought, Duo chuckled lightly.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said thoughtfully. "Time seems to have less importance here, somehow..." The bard shivered suddenly. "That could become scary," he murmured. "Forgetting that somewhere out there, time is going on, wielding just as much power as before, whilst we sit her forgetting of her existence."

But Duo didn't place undue importance on that musing. Instead, he reverted to that which no doubt had led to him seeking out Quatre in the first place. The bard coughed, not quite nervously, before he asked, "You didn't really mean that, did you? In the library, when you said that Heero..."

"Was evil?" Quatre asked bluntly, before smiling gently at Duo to let him know there was not seriousness to the words. "I wanted to feel that at the time-" and that was true, "because I'm sure even you can see how that could have been a possibility? There has been something terrible within this place for a long time now, Duo. A girl died – her blood was spilt. That man was utterly insane, and he was not always that way. Something drove him to that. But if you say that Heero is free of blame, then I – all of us – believe you. I'm sorry if I failed to ensure you saw that."

Duo exhaled, and a bright smile reached across his face. "I'm glad," he said softly, sincerely. "It makes me happy to hear that." He paused, and the resumed, much more hesitantly. "Do you... really think that I can help Heero break the curse?"

The question took Quatre off-guard, though in hindsight, he didn't see why it should have.

"Yes," he said firmly, feeling a faint urge to pick apart the emotions dancing across Duo's face. "You can, Duo! Just look where we are! You've already done more than any other person has been able to in more than five hundred years! Try..." and just when he thought it was going away, he once again heard the girl's scream within his ears. Swallowing, Quatre went on, "Try to forget about the unpleasantness that happened. The prince likes you, or he wouldn't have kept us here this long. Have faith in yourself, Duo."

After he spoke Quatre almost wished he could have thought of words that would have resonated more strongly, perhaps a touch more brilliant in their uniqueness. But for Duo, that did not matter. He smiled, a bright, wonderful thing, saying, "Thanks, Quat."

The blond wondered if there was more to come – surely there were other things that Duo was feeling, no doubt linked with the close bond he had so obviously developed with the prince. If there was no stronger emotion, Duo would not have reacted as vividly as he had, at the insinuation that Heero might have had something to do with the blood-letting of the poor girl.

Interesting, that the prince had ended the lives of so many by turning them to gold – many accidents, no doubt, but Quatre could not help but believe that a great portion of their number had been deliberate – and yet Duo could still so easily find pleasure in staying by the prince's side. Interesting, that Duo still cared so desperately about ending the curse for the prince – perhaps that Duo, very simple, cared desperately for Heero.

Yet even as he waited, Duo said no more. Still he looked thoughtful, still he seemed to have something to say, but the longhaired man made no attempt to voice his thoughts. So Quatre asked.

"Do you care for him, Duo?"

The bard started as the words, low and gentle, hovered in the air, and he turned his face away from Quatre's gaze. As he did so, his braid swung around to settle lightly on his left shoulder, and he grasped it with his right hand, fiddling with the ends of his hair. A difficult chuckle was wrung from his throat as he pointedly kept his gaze on the lush carpet.

"Do I?" Duo said finally. Quatre doubted that the question was meant for him, and chose to say nothing. But his watch over the stiffened back never faltered

"Why do you ask me that?" the bard wondered, voice somewhat reproachful. "I've cared all along, haven't I? Or I wouldn't have bothered getting this far at all! You made it seem like I was special, like this was my duty! Well, if it is, then isn't it my duty to care?" His voice may have been harsh, but when he whirled around to stare Quatre in the eye there was a certain hesitation, his violet gaze unsure.

"You _are_ special," Quatre told him, reaching out to grasp his shoulder, a light, reassuring touch. He smiled. "I can barely believe all you've done for the land of Hei already, Duo. In arriving here, you've rendered his histories retold by my fathers and all those before them a reality, and that's rather remarkable. So please, don't feel like you have to explain yourself or your emotions to me. Although... if ever you would like, I am always here to talk. Or listen." He laughed, blue-green eyes flickering. "I'm told I can do both fairly well... especially with growing up having Trowa as a companion!"

Duo's shoulders relaxed visibly, and he released his grip upon his hair. "Thank you," he grinned, lips parting and curving upwards naturally. Was it simply Duo, or had the heart of gold of the prophecy gifted him that easiness with joy?

There was the briefest of silences, as the air seemed to settle. Then Duo rose suddenly, gracelessly, heaving himself upwards. "Well, sorry to jerk you awake like this... I suppose I should let you try to wake yourself! Properly, that is." His eyes fixed upon someone in the doorway then. When Quatre turned to look, the sight of Trowa, leaning against the edge of the entrance into the room made a smile edge itself subconsciously upon his face.

Duo noticed, and winked, not so subtly. Quatre wondered how Duo knew about what had come to pass between himself and Trowa, but perhaps his smile gave him away. He found it interesting to note that he didn't particularly mind, and as he let his eyes linger upon Trowa for a fraction of a moment longer, he couldn't think why he would.

The bard made as if to move away, but a thought made him pause and turn around again. Crouching so that he was once more lowered to Quatre's level, he asked, in a tone low enough to enable a certain degree of privacy, but not enough to deliberately exclude Trowa, "Do you think that I'll be able to... do it? Really?"

"What do you mean?" Quatre asked in return. "Do you mean the curse?"

"Yeah," Duo blinked, and it seemed such a hopeful, young action that something pulled at Quatre's heart. "Do you really think I can help Heero?"

"I do."

Duo beamed at him, as if the two words were his Holy Grail. "So then, the dreams... they were because of the curse? Because I'm..."

"Special?" Quatre filled in, knowing that Duo couldn't quite put it that way himself. Duo's other words made him wonder, though. "I can't say I know anything about your dreams, though. You haven't told me about them before."

Duo flushed slightly, shaking his head slightly so his bangs obscured his eyes. "I thought they were just... I mean... I didn't think they were important. But now... maybe... I'm meant to have them?"

Duo's disjointed thoughts were somehow being channeled through to his words, which Quatre doubted the bard understood himself. The blond wished there were words on hand to give the bard, but he couldn't quite seem to find any. Luckily, Duo didn't need anything more from him. With a last distracted, thoughtful smile, Duo rose, giving Quatre a half-wave and wandering towards the door. On the way out, he glanced at Trowa, and reached up to pat the taller man briefly on the arm before leaving.

Trowa inclined himself backwards slightly to watch as Duo moved down the hallway, then pushed himself away from the support of the wall and moved towards Quatre. The blond began to rise, suddenly acutely aware that he was still wrapped in his bed. His movement was halted as Trowa reached his side, and, flicking his brown hair away from his eyes, pushed Quatre back down so he was once more quite horizontal.

"Trowa?" he asked, swallowing to prevent a wide smile from taking over his face.

Trowa wasn't willing to do the same, and his lips spread apart easily. It never failed to thrill Quatre. Never. Trowa's smiles were those precious things that he wanted to bottle and keep by his side always.

Of course, having the real thing this close was pretty fantastic too.

Trowa made his way upon the bedspread, and in a smooth motion, was beneath the covers and pressed against Quatre's side.

"You trust him," Trowa told Quatre, moving closer still. "Finally, you trust in Duo. Completely. You know he can do this. I'm glad." He ended by pressing a firm kiss to the corner of Quatre's lips, telling him that he didn't need a reply, didn't need a reaffirmation to his words. He curved into Quatre's body, both eyes a sharp, piercing colour in the lighting of the room.

"Daybreak has come and gone," Quatre noted slowly, marveling at his ability to string together coherent, though unappealing thoughts. "Should we really be spending our hours like this?"

Trowa's green eyes glistened, suddenly too close to him. "You tell me," the taller man rasped, his hand reaching up to cup Quatre's cheek lightly.

"Trowa?" Quatre repeated, voice wispy, barely there. He didn't really want words, not now. Trowa's name was all he could manage, with the other's touch so warm and gentle against his skin. He fancied he could feel the lines embedded in the tips of Trowa's fingers, fancied that they were imprinting their pattern into Quatre's skin.

"He can't do this," Trowa murmured, breath warm and wonderful in his ear. "The prince can't touch Duo like this. Even when he most wants to, he can't."

His chest felt suddenly cold, even with the weight of Trowa against it. Quatre bit his lip, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly guilty. He didn't like Trowa saying that, not at that moment, but perhaps it was something that had to be said. Perhaps it was only then that Quatre realized that, no matter how much of a prince or how much of a legend Heero was, he had still been brought into the world as human.

Then Trowa's other hand reached out to take Quatre's own, curving their arms between their bodies. As their fingers dusted together, Quatre's breath hitched each time they touched, each time Trowa's fingers ran over the back of his hand, each time he ran his fingers down Trowa's palm. Their touches trickled between them, fluid like water, and it felt like Quatre had been blind to the sense of touch, until that very moment.

Unable to bear the acute emotion that shuddered through him, he buried his face into Trowa's chest, freeing both arms to clutch the taller man towards him. "Trowa," he moaned, over and over again. He felt hotness prick at the edges of his eyes, and clenched them closed tighter still.

Trowa didn't move, and Quatre was utterly grateful. When the rawness had subsided, Trowa moved to cup the blond's face in his palms. "You've done good," Trowa told him solemnly, suddenly sounding the way he had when they were mere children, before the world had seemed real. "And it will be okay."

The smile that reached across Quatre's face meant that somewhere, some part of him believed that.

--

"_That was very right."_

Heero sat in his private chamber, staring at the opulence that it was drenched in, and wondered why he had never noticed before. Not that a certain degree of this garishness could have been avoided. Gold, gold, everything gold. Every thread of bedding, every inch of the wall, of the lush strands of the carpet. Fortunately, he supposed, there were different shades, different strengths according to the material.

Truly, was it any wonder that he had wearied of this life? That he had wanted, craved, something more?

And now... he seemed to have gotten it.

"_That was very right_," Duo had said.

Heero pressed firm fingers into his bottom lip, noting with surprise how very different this touch was to Duo's. Dug his fingers into his lips, harder, as he realized that he was a fool. Every action he had taken since the bard had invaded his palace had only reaffirmed the fact that he was a complete and utter fool. Fool, to have let the bard stay so long, charming him with his words and smiles. Fool, to have let his anger render him weak, force him into taking Duo like that.

Fool, to find himself sitting here and wondering if he could kiss the bard again.

"You're brooding," he heard. Duo chuckled as he made his way to where Heero was slouched into a large, strangely uncomfortable seat. "Stop," Duo told him, tapping him lightly on the lips with his index finger.

There it was again. Duo's touch. Different.

Nice.

There was only a brief pause, maybe even a hesitation, before the bard reached in and placed a kiss on his lips. The contact didn't make Heero want to jerk away now, but it was over too fast for him to consider, maybe, moving his own lips against Duo's in a mirrored action.

It would have been hard to have tried to explain how he felt, if it had ever been demanded of him. The way he stiffened each time Duo was close enough to touch. The way there was a slow, burning dread each time the bard so flippantly edged towards him, touched him. How every time Duo moved into the space surrounding his body a sudden, poisonous streak ran through him, a feeling that grated against his nerves, if only because he had an uncomfortable feeling that it might have been fear.

And he did not fucking fear anything. No. He hated, he scorned, he embraced bitterness as he would have a friend.

Ever since that birthday, anyone who had come close enough to be touched had become gold, never to touch, never to move, never to breath again.

Duo didn't seem to realize that, or if he did, didn't seem to care. He positioned himself, not only close to, but against Heero. Touching. Holding. Infusing the warmth he held within him, as if in the hope that he could slowly chip away the block of ice that had formed out of human flesh that was Heero.

Duo, touching, talking, smiling, laughing. Joyous, and angry, but whether it was fury or amusement or fear there was always something glistening within him. With so many parts to the bard, he was more of an enigma than Heero could claim to be. Duo, and what he had done to the prince. Injected so far into Heero's life, there was nothing before him, and nothing that Heero could imagine after he was gone.

Which he would be. Because if his life had taught him anything, it was that this curse would go on forever. He would go on forever, and either Duo would leave, or Duo would die. Heero would never die, and Heero would go on, long after Duo had withered away to a faint memory, trapped in the recesses of his mind.

But now the bard was a warmth, chin pressed into the flesh above Heero's knee; a smile, curving gently upwards, lips slightly parted, as he breathed, in, out, lightly; violet, shimmering and shining with something that Heero didn't want to decrypt for fear of what it might be.

"Heero," Duo said, voice gently chiding. "Stop that. Don't think anymore, okay?"

The prince would have laughed, but then he couldn't.

They weren't even fucking kissing, that time. They weren't even doing anything. Duo was just looking at him, _looking_ at him, head tilted backwards, eyes big and wide, smiling for some secret thought that Heero wasn't privy for.

"I said stop thinking!" Duo exclaimed, laughing out loud. Heero scowled, a weight pulling at the edges of his lips.

Duo kissed the frown away, so deftly that it had hardly occurred before it was over. A gentle touch, darting upwards at each corner of Heero's lips, before Duo was settled back down upon Heero's knees, grinning at him. The bard was certainly... cheery.

These... touches, so light and brief and barely existent, bothered him. So he scowled again.

And Duo... Duo did the same thing he had done before.

If Heero had been in his right mind, he would have seen that it would all go downhill from there. But he couldn't quite rouse the willingness to care, to be bothered, to be negative and angry and disgusted.

It was so much easier to delve into Duo, and the gentle touches he offered.

--

A/N: Had meant to achieve more in this chapter, but altogether I felt it ran on too long, and I'm somewhat uncomfortable with chapters that edge into the high end of 5000 words, so... broke it down somewhat. Nice, non-cliffhanger ending. Maybe that makes up for the long, long, long ( ! ) time this took. It seems that even with the best of intentions my desire to update more often and more regularly never really comes into fruition, and I do apologise. I promise, once more, that this fic is always on my mind, and I am hell bent on seeing it through to the end. It's just with real life, sometimes other (less enjoyable) things take precedence... And then, there is my inherent lazy streak. All in all, sorries all around.

Also, thanks so much to Kate, who beta'd this chapter and has been awesome in encouraging me to write, but more importantly, to stay sane. This chapter is dedicated to her, because I promised I would and also because she deserves so much more but this is all I have. (For now! I promise more for Christmas!)

And to all those who take the time to read, especially my reviewers, thank you. Feedback means so much to me and makes writing this so much more worthwhile. So thanks for sticking around.

Kimiki, if you're out there, let me know?


	18. seventeen

_**Chapter Seventeen**_

"How do you think he became like this, 'Fei?"

Zechs' soft voice seemed as garish as a curse in the flat silence. The sudden appearance of the tall man by his side caused a flush of guilt to run through Wufei, the oriental man averting his eyes from the sight before him. He hadn't meant to come down here, really. The place felt wrong, and yet he couldn't have helped himself. His feet had brought him down, padding across the floor slowly as he made his way into the depths of the castle dungeons.

Somehow, he just knew that he had to see him. He just... had to know why. Gain back some sense of control, some sense of power over himself, take back his strength. And maybe some part of him thought that seeing that man, when he wasn't half paralyzed with shock and fear – although he wouldn't have so easily admitted to those feelings – would help him to... remember himself again.

He smoothed a hand over the top of his head, desperate for something to do that could alleviate the growing weight pressing on his chest. All at once, the chill from being this far beneath the ground seemed to seep into his skin, dragged into his bone. He edged back surreptitiously, trying not to seem overtly eager to lean into the line of Zechs' body behind him. It wasn't his fault if the other man always chose to stand so damned close.

Only when he could hear the light rustling of their outer garments shifting against each other, did he find an answer.

"He wanted too much," Wufei said slowly, unsure if he was giving the right response. Honestly, he didn't know himself, how anyone born human could be reduced to such a state, to doing such things. He shuddered inside, at the blood-covered bare skin, at the rags that the man had himself formed out of his clothing. Yet some part of him was resigned to the fact that there would always be things that would elude him, and the intricate workings of the mind, and all its twisted forms, would forever be one of them. Perhaps it was possible to instead seek comfort in the things he did know, and the things that would make themselves known to him.

Wanting some reaffirmation, Wufei reached out behind him, intending to take Zechs' hand in his. But instead, Zechs grasped at his shoulder, long fingers digging in painfully. Wufei instructed himself not to wince, but suddenly couldn't quite make himself turn to face the other man. Drawing in a deep breath, he finally did so, loosening the tight grip and looking up into the familiar face. Zechs' expression made him regret not doing so sooner, so wretched was it. He hadn't realized before just how much this was hurting Zechs, a fact which he berated himself for. Of course Zechs was hurting. This was the man with links to Zechs' family like no other! And yet he had seemed to composed, so together...

Perhaps sometimes it really did take seeing to believe, and to make emotion real.

He shouldn't have come down here, shouldn't have caused Zechs to follow him... but perhaps, in some cruel way, it was a good thing he did. Wufei tugged determinedly at the cloth of Zechs' upper garment, forcing him to fall slightly into Wufei. As he did, he crumbled, in the most infinitesimal of ways, pressing their bodies together and dipping his face to rest in the arc of Wufei's shoulder. He breathed, each exhalation a puff of pain that Wufei thought he could almost touch. reached around Wufei to run his fingers agitatedly through the dark, silky strands.

"Why?" Zechs asked, pulling back slightly and shaking his head from side to side. "I just... Why?" He brought one hand up around Wufei, reaching to run his fingers agitatedly through the dark, silky strands as if touch could somehow make everything better, a panacea. Maybe, at that moment, it almost was.

Still, once again there was no answer, and it would have been to harsh for Zechs to have expected one. Wufei searched for words anyway, and finally, he said lowly, "He placed all his hopes on one dream, I think. On one impossible dream, balanced on one person. Shaped his life around it, and when the dream broke apart, it let the madness in."

Zechs took Wufei's face almost roughly into his hands. "Don't we all?" he demanded, an edge of desperation in his voice, even as he kept it low. "How can you say that? Like... like it makes sense, like _that_ is something that could happen to any of us? We have dreams, 'Fei. It gives us reason to live. Don't you believe that?"

Wufei didn't like the way Zechs' eyes had grown so very large, the way his breathing had thickened, and it almost made him regret his words. He shifted his head slightly, but Zechs didn't let go, although his touch grew somewhat gentler, thumb tracing tiny circles on Wufei's cheeks. The dark-haired man only lowered narrowed eyes as an answer, and Zechs went on, quietly, sorrowfully.

"I place all my hopes in _you_, 'Fei. I don't know when I started, but at some moment I think I realized that I couldn't remember a time without you by my side, and now I don't dare envisage one that doesn't have you there too. I place in you all my dreams, all I have, all of me."

His words were alarming, but the sudden softness in the way he trailed faint designs on Wufei's skin, the sadness in his voice, made it easier for Wufei to reply.

"No," he told Zechs firmly, refusing to let the look of horror stop his words or force him to retract his statement. "No. You most certainly do not. You placed your hopes in _us_, Zechs. In what we have together, in what we will build together. For us, you and me. This is nothing like what he did. You are nothing like what he is, and I most certainly am not, either. Believe me, Zechs. Because you are so much more than that. You have faith in yourself. And that is why I love you. We both know that."

Wufei's barrage of words came out so quickly, tumbling over each other in his desperation say what he needed before stuttering to a sudden pause when his breath fell short. Then he smiled upwards and said, very deliberately, "I love you, Zechs."

It was the first time it had sounded so real.

At last, finally, Zechs smiled, and his hands dropped down to interlink their fingers together. For one brief, precious moment, the air around them formed a protective bubble, closing the two into a place where everything was wonderful, and it was okay to smile always.

Too quickly it ended, as a deep, guttural moan invaded the air. The man started to spasm, then his flailing motions stilled abruptly and his eyes snapped open, disturbingly large, all white and no pupil.

Zechs shuddered, and Wufei would have, but for the fact that he knew it would only serve to further trouble the other man. A heavy scowl dragged down his lips and he decided that no longer could he bear this place. Tigtening his hold on Zechs' hands, he pulled him around the corner, placing the stone wall firmly between them and the ghastly sight of the man who was now mumbling incoherently. The stairs leading out of the dungeons were now directly before them, but before Wufei started to move up them, there was still something troubling him. It wanted to be said, and perhaps there was no better place than within these ugly grey stone walls.

"Listen to me, Zechs."

Their unexpected halt meant that he was already looking at Wufei expectantly, but Wufei had to be sure Zechs was listening, had to be sure that he understood Wufei meant every word of what he was about to say. Je reached up to tug firmly at the blond hair falling over Zechs' shoulder, which made Zechs' lips threaten to tip upwards. Wufei felt his own inch into a half-smile; an action he knew would only make it harder for Zechs to hide a growing affectionate smile. When Zechs attempted, and failed, the smile lit up his face and thrilled Wufei in more than one way. It warmed him, that he could know the other man so well – even now, as he spoke with a steely edge in his voice and tried to stifle his need to press his lips against Zechs'.

"You make sure you believe what I said, okay? And don't you dare, don't you _dare_ ever compare yourself with him again. Don't ever allow yourself to do that, because if you start, I will know, and I..." He breathed hard, dark eyes fierce.

"You...?" Zechs asked, tilting his head to the side. His long hair moved with him, and a few strands came to caress lightly upon 'Fei's cheek.

"I'll do _this_," Wufei told him, and affirmed his statement with a determined, driving kiss.

"I see," Zechs murmured, when it ended. His lips looked... ravished now, and suddenly Wufei was determined to be out of this place, back into the library, were there was comfort and warmth. Or better still, in their rooms, where there was a welcoming bed and feather comforters waiting for them.

The sparkle, the glistening in Zechs' eyes told Wufei quite surely that the blond was thinking the same.

Their hands found each other as they made their way back up, out of the dark and shadows at last, and away from the man who had curled into himself and cried out to an entity only there to him.

--

He didn't need to feel abandoned, because he never was. That would never happen, because his struggles, his actions, had not been for nothing. No, he was not abandoned. His future stretched on before him, glistening crimson in its glory.

The voice had come to be his master, and his master would lead him out away from the stench of this place, forced upon him by his bastard son.

He trembled in his anticipation, waiting for the voice that would come. Sometimes when he heard it, it hurt. But pain was a good thing, pain was what he needed to get what he wanted, what he had always wanted, and pain now would meant lots more pain later... for all those fools who had dared to put him here, dared to get in his way...

Yes, lots and lots of pain...

The universe around him began to whisper, and he could, he could feel the voice coming, nearing him. Eager, waiting, he fell still, and then...

The voice fell upon him, and he could have cried out with the heat of the joy rushing through him.

It was time...

The voice whispered to him, the words dripping into his ears letter by letter, and after each one he etched them into his soul, repeating them to himself, reveling in their perfection.

He wouldn't do wrong. This time, _everything_ would be perfect...

Then he stilled. No... no, that was wrong, what it told him. He couldn't do that. The bastard had to pay, had to pay for his sins and that of his bitch mother.

The voice pacified him, calm and never ceasing. It understood, but there was only one way it could be done...

And _he_ understood, but he couldn't let the wretched blond boy bastard go. No, no... he had to have what he wanted... Had to have the bastard scream, scream with pain, even if it was at the end, even if it was the last thing that he did...

And so it started to hurt. He could feel little things popping in his head, feel something gorging at the backs of his eyes, and he clawed at himself with his nails, the slickness of new blood mingling with the layers dried upon his skin. The sound of a barrage of rain throbbed insistently, he thought he saw flashes like that of lightning, gold, striking at him and knocking him over... too much, too much pain that it bordered on something else...

When it stopped, he was left strangely calm.

Yes, the voice, his master, the way, had decided. He would do what he had to do now, now that he understood completely.

And besides, he liked it this way too. This way he could have the violet eyes, and they would not be taken from him. No... they were promised, now.

They were his.

And the voice whispered more still, and he fell into the sound, murmuring those pleasant words to himself as he listened, and rejoiced.

--

He rejoiced, while small, sharp eyes watched. Keen ears strained to pick up the sounds emanating from his lips, struggled to put them into words and make sense of them, translate them into something that could be properly relayed on.

Then the eyes widened, young at last in their surprise, at the sudden shock of realization.

And the boy ran, soundlessly, to pass on what he had heard.

And to get away.

--

The thing was, Duo couldn't remember drifting off to sleep. But he must have, because this was most definitely a dream. He knew this, even though it was a vastly different dream to all the others, in that he could clearly recognize it for what it was.

In a way, that was nice, to know that there was a chance that it would not end terribly. Though it didn't seem to want to end any time soon, and neither did he wish for it to.

Because he was kissing the prince.

It was a brilliant kiss, too. Heero was charged with a strange kind of energy, taking charge in the way they angled their heads, in the way their noses bumped lightly. Heero delved in to force their lips together, again and again, and Duo was perfectly content in the way he was leading things. Sometimes their lips touched together lightly, before Heero would get agitated and make the kiss stronger, firmer, like each one was a message needing to be seared into Duo's soul.

Then the prince pulled away, and it was Duo's turn to grow agitated, as he moved his face closer, demanding the kisses resumed like before. Heero kept his face an aggravating distance away, and after an irritated sound wrenched its way from his throat, the bard gave up and opened his eyes to glare disapprovingly at the prince before him.

Having got what he had wanted, Heero spared a smug twisting of lips before his face took on a careful expression. Duo shivered at the scrutiny, almost looking away, and then – his back was against a wall. But it wasn't golden, like all those that filled the palace. No, it was a unique, deep green colour, strangely warm for its type. Heero planted his hands against the wall, an action which Duo found odd, though he couldn't quite remember why. And then Heero's fingers, long and slender, perfectly shaped, dragged their way around the slightly textured surface, inching towards Duo's face.

The bard grew alarmed, and his breath drew itself from his lungs more difficultly as he wondered what it was he feared so much.

But when Heero's touch, warm and careful, fell upon his cheeks, he found there nothing to fear, and all the harsh emotions were dispelled.

"Please," he felt himself whisper. Heero's eyes were so close now, their amazing blue gripping at something deep within his and pulling it up to lodge in his throat.

Heero chuckled, and as the sound made its way from the prince's vocal chords, Duo fancied that he heard, "Anything."

And their lips met again, and as Heero held him, all became wonderful. While it lasted.

So when Duo felt wakening prick at the edges of his subconscious, and felt himself being drawn away from that iridescent place, he thought he could have cried. Pressing a palm against his forehead, he wondered at the ache in his back, the slight discomfort in his head that usually accompanied those rare moments that he suffered from oversleep.

Duo might not have been able to remember falling asleep, but now he was greatly regretting ever doing so. Although he couldn't say that it had been entirely without its merits, either – that had been quite a dream, and the only thing that he regretted more than having slept in the first place was being forced awake.

By a warm, lean body moving against his.

Well, that definitely made waking more appealing. Suddenly wide awake once more, Duo forced his eyes open wide, and peered upward carefully, to ensure exactly what he was seeing was accurate.

It was. The prince was straightening his spine, rolling his shoulders before reaching a hand upwards to rub at his eyes. His hair had flattened at the back, and now stood up haphazardly. And then Duo recalled his last memory, which was the way he had positioned himself at Heero's feet, curling his legs and leaning his head against Heero's lap. After they had kissed. A lot.

Small wonder that sleep had claimed him, if he had put himself in such a position. Still, it was shocking that he had allowed himself to fall asleep in the middle of the day, and Duo felt almost ashamed. Though that wasn't what was occupying most of his mind...

Apart from the way some part of him grinned widely at seeing Heero half-awake – he seemed to have had the honour of doing so quite a bit these last few days, and Duo felt he could really get used to it – there was something else his mind was clamoring for him to notice.

There was the faintest of pink brushing against the cheeks of the prince. It was quite a sight to behold, and Duo both expected and didn't prevent the way his eyes widened even more, as he craned his neck further upwards, to get as close to Heero as possible without having to pressure his cramped legs.

Heero noticed the overt movement, and froze suddenly, before glaring fiercely at the bard. His shoulders snapped back, and his eyes narrowed, his regal upbringing at once present.

But Duo had better things to stare at.

Because Heero's eyes seemed to get deeper as he edged his way forward, really straining his neck as his legs made known their unwillingness to rise. And Duo's breathing was shortening, and again something twisted tight in his throat.

"Please," he heard, startled when he realized that there was no one who could have said it but him. The word echoed around the room in a way he didn't remember the dream doing, a rough reminded of what he had said. Duo started to tuck his chin back against his chest, acutely unsure.

Then there was a low chuckle, just as warm as anything Duo could have dreamt up, but real, practically tangible. "Anything," said Heero, before taking Duo's lips in a kiss.

The way the air seemed to swirl around him, mimicking the rush of blood in his body, and he sank into the moment, was something he would remember for a long, long time.

--

Duo lay, splayed out across the floor, not having moved a muscle since he had first thrown himself upon the floor of Heero's room. They had kissed for so long, and it had felt just like one extended feeling of bliss, with each lingering touch and shared breath melting into the next.

When at last Duo had been able to pull himself away, his conscious was finally able to take control – and the small, insistant part of him demanded he at least _consider_ what he was doing. Up till that point, his mind had not been able to function with his body so closely pressed against the prince's, but now it threatened to quickly warp into an unceasing barrage of consternation.

So, unwillingly, with a parting smile that could only convey the tiniest fraction of the acute joy Duo was feeling, he had pulled himself away and thrown himself against the lush carpet, which had the barest sheens of gold within its many strands of material. As he moved away, he noticed the way Heero's hands were still carefully clamped around the arms of his chair, and the bard's heart ached and warmed at the same time. Heero _did_ care. It was impossible to believe anything else. While Duo had had the luxury of running his fingers through Heero's thick, dark-brown locks, of trailing them down the back of Heero's neck and tracing the prince's jawline, Heero had no such option. And while Duo may have forgotten about the curse the entire time they had spent together, it was clearly evident that Heero hadn't.

Duo resisted the urge to bite his bottom lip as he tried not to focus on the junction between Heero's hands and the gold of the chair. Instead, he decided to indulge in another study of the prince's beautiful features: the lines of his jaw and his chin, his lips and his nose and his eyes and the curve of dark eyelashes. As he did so, he noticed that Heero's grip was starting to slacken, Heero slowly releasing his body from the taught lines that he always maintained whenever near another person.

Suddenly desperate to compel Heero into a smile, while alloying himself a childish instinctual desire, Duo moved himself so he was stretched out upon his stomach, keeping his eyes on Heero's as he did so. Then, resting on his arms, he moved his cheek against the heavy texture of the carpet. It was just as soft as he could have expected, and the individual strands whispered at him with each motion. It was a lovely feeling, an enchanting softness, and Duo beamed, oddly satisfied. Then he flung his head backwards, feeling his satisfaction grow as he watched Heero wrestle the beginnings of a smile from his lips.

And after resting his head back down, he hadn't moved again, until he heard the prince speak.

"What did your friends say?" Heero asked him. The prince had moved to examine a painting that hung from his wall, and had his back towards Duo.

"Huh?"

Heero turned around, expression inscrutable. "You first left the training rooms because you told me you wanted to talk to your friends. Well? Did you get a satisfactory response from them?"

Duo laughed lightly. "It was nothing so important to worry about, Heero. I just wanted to see them again, clear up some words that had passed. Nothing's wrong, and I have a feeling our stay here has been quite a beneficial one for all of us!"

Heero raised an eyebrow, saying nothing, but continued to look at Duo.

Taking advantage of what was apparently a good time to talk, Duo asked the question that had been bothering him for too long now. The atmosphere, both within the castle and between him and the prince, seemed to change so rapidly that it was hard to keep track of each shift. And it was comfortable now, between them. He was in Heero's room, there had been a warmth, a gentleness, in the way their lips had met, and Duo hoped that meant that the prince at least trusted Duo now, and knew that anything Duo said was not judgmental, nor accusatory in any way.

"What do you plan on doing with... that man?" Duo bit his lip, and studied Heero's face carefully for any changes in his expression.

"That man?" Heero repeated, looking thoughtful. "I had never noticed him before than day, to be completely honest. I think he had a daughter..."

"Relena," Duo said. "He did. Her name was Relena."

Heero's eyes widened imperceptibly. "You knew her?"

Duo breathed deeply, wondering if he should be saying what he was. "She was Zechs' sister. He knew her; I never did."

There was a stagnant pause. "I touched her," Heero said, almost casually flinging out the words between them.

"Yes," said Duo, chest tight. "I saw. I... saw her."

"Oh," Heero said. He wouldn't take his eyes away from Duo, and it was a hard gaze to bear for long.

"What are you going to do with him?" Duo repeated insistently. The words came out quickly, like he was ashamed of wanting to know, and irritation rose in his chest.

"Maybe your friend should decide," Heero said, moving closer. Duo finally, unwillingly, rose from the floor and fell into Heero's chair.

"Really?" Duo asked. He hadn't thought the prince would have said that, and it would have been touching had there been any emotion within the prince's voice.

"He means nothing to me," Heero said carelessly. "And so it would not be my place to dictate his fate." He narrowed his eyes meaningfully at the bard. "Life and death have blurred their meaning before me."

There were too many ways to take that statement, and multiple ways of replying, so Duo chose instead to give Heero a small smile and tell him, "I'll make sure to let Zechs know what you said."

"I killed people, you know," Heero told him, before Duo had even finished his words. "I meant to. Deliberately. Because they bothered me, because I decided I didn't like them, because I wanted to." The prince slowed his words towards the end, and each one lingered.

Duo felt his blood threaten to grow cold, felt his heart pulse angrily at what the prince said, so easily. Then he remembered the way Heero had gripped the seat at their embraces, remembered how only Heero had ever been able to make joy rise buoyantly within him, remembered the sound of Heero's voice:

"_I'm sorry, Duo."_

He slowed his breathing carefully, waiting to ensure an even tone would emanate from his mouth. "Why are you telling me this, Heero?"

"Because I want you to _know_! I need you to know the man you touch so easily, the one you can embrace so casually – I want you to know what I've done." Heero made a low hissing as he breathed in through gritted teeth. "I'm not human, Duo. In more ways than one."

Duo understood, finally. He walked to the prince, reached up to take his chin between his fingers. "You _are_, Heero. No amount of curses, no amount of deaths could take that away from you, not while you still sound like that when you talk to me." Duo laughed briefly. "You may be a hell of a bastard, but you are most definitely human. And I don't embrace you casually, damn you. You're the only one I… and it's the furthest thing from casual. Don't cheapen what we... what we do."

He had hoped his words would ease the stiff line of the prince's back, but instead it had tightened. "Did your friends say something about me?" Heero asked, subtle anger infused with the words.

Duo felt himself begin to grow alarmed. "Why would you say that?"

Heero laughed, a hard sound of fury. "I know what they all say about me. That I'm a bastard. I know. I know what they all think, and I know your friends believe the same thing. Now you must, too. Maybe I was a fool to ask you to stay."

Duo growled angrily, the heat in his body in part from frustration. He thought they had got past this, thought that the new angle of their relationship meant that they were getting closer to breaking the curse, getting closer to the day when Heero could trust him, to know that he wasn't going anywhere. But this was too much – he was insulting his friends.

And some fraction of Duo's anger was because he knew that to a certain extent, the actions of all those that Heero had around him, and Quatre's words in the library, justified Heero's suspicions.

The bard flung his head around angrily. "Shut up!" he shouted finally. "Gods, you... you... you _infuriate_ me!"

Heero lunged forward suddenly. "What did you say?" he hissed, and it was barely a question. His face had twisted into something hard and angry and almost terrifying, if only because it was the same face that Duo had awoken to find the most beautiful one he had even seen before.

Duo only fed on the anger, his own and the prince's, and his words came out a lot more biting than he had expected. "If you act like this, no wonder they call you a bastard."

The moment they had been said, Duo felt the anger rush from him, replaced immediately with a shame that made him bite down on his tongue. He swallowed, and attempted to apologise, but he never got that far.

In one swift move, the prince's arm was across Duo's throat, and had he been pushing just a little bit more, Duo wouldn't be able to breathe. As it was, the bard was already having significant trouble, as his half-formed apology was trapped in his throat, never to surface.

Self-preservation quickly took over, although even then there was a piece of Duo that believed whole-heartedly that the prince would never let himself hurt Duo. Knowing the prince couldn't touch him with his hands, Duo pressed his palms to Heero's chest and pushed – hard. The prince lost his balance, falling backwards ungracefully and landing on the floor, eyes flashing angrily – but still, there was an acute awareness in the way he glared, and that soothed Duo somewhat. This may have been something close to a fight, but it was not one with a Heero that had been taken over by a madness.

It was still Heero, though.

"Don't," Duo bit out, when he saw the prince clamber up quickly, going for his sword, which lay suspended upon the wall nearest the prince. "Just don't you dare." He gave a twisted grin, a shuddering sigh of disgust that Heero would even entertain that thought, after everything. "Hell, _your highness_, if you really want me to leave so damn much, then I will!"

And every ounce of him believing in that statement, he turned, searching for an exit, carried by the anger, albeit weaker, that had once again trickled into his blood. Heero beat him there, standing in his path before Duo could move very far in the direction of the doorway. And with a positively vicious glint in his eye, the shorthaired prince forced Duo against the nearest wall, bearing upon him and allowing his minute height difference to seem so much greater as the prince angled his face downwards.

They were almost painfully close together, Heero's arms placed on either side of the wall next to Duo, trapping him there, in an almost mimicry of what had occurred within Duo's dream.

"What are you going to do?" Duo challenged, half-thinking he had gone mad. Himself or Heero, he didn't quite know. Perhaps they were both...

"Insane. _You're_ insane," Heero hissed accusingly, and with that, he ducked his head to the side, catching Duo's lips in a bruising kiss.

Mind half in the moment and half in the clouds somewhere, it took moments before the bard could return the kiss – which he did with fervor, lips catching up with the situation much faster than his mind did. It was instinct now, to move his mouth against Heero's whenever he felt that pleasing pressure.

Heero had eased off somewhat, but his hands where still firmly placed on the wall – where they couldn't hurt Duo. And even then that fact didn't escape Duo's notice, and even then something warmed at the reassurance that came along with it.

Pulling back slightly, Duo swooped back in for the kill, nipping gently, then harder, at Heero's lips. He slid his arms upwards, running his fingers gently through Heero's soft hair.

The prince's arms were shuddering slightly from strain of keeping his palms in place whist leaning in against Duo without placing too much pressure. Wanting to knock the serious expression from his face, Duo bumped their noses lightly together. He chuckled at the confused expression that met him, and aligned their lips again.

A kiss later and Duo leant against the wall. "I wish you could hold me," he whispered, ignoring the flush that ran through his cheeks at his words.

"I wish I could touch you," Heero shot back challengingly, regretfully, almost gently, and Duo felt that he was finally seeing more of Heero than before, the Heero that had been locked up for so long, for too long. The next words were barely real, barely able to be heard as they moved between the two. "Want to hold you, touch you…"

But Duo did hear. And something jumped inside, thrilled; he felt his arms tingle. "All over," Duo whispered in return, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips.

They were so close now, that nothing that was said could possibly hurt. It made it easy, then, to say anything, and Heero did. "Mmm, _all_ over," Heero rumbled, his voice a brilliant deep tone that sank deep into Duo's skin to tremble beneath.

Duo's breath hitched. It had never quite felt like that before, like with each touch they were coming closer to something, something far more brilliant... He did the only thing he could do, he initiated the kiss, bringing their lips together and moving his own against Heero's hurriedly before he paused, letting them rest against each other, taking in Heero's breath and returning with his own.

"Don't go," Heero whispered finally, the words forming against the bard's own lips, never ever leaving the space between them. Heero angled his head slightly away, to reaffirm the words by meeting Duo's eyes.

And in that moment, as their lips met once more and little shivers were sent up Duo's spine, the bard knew with searing clarity that nothing could ever make him.

--

A/N: Huge huge hugs and thanks for the very awesome Kate, who both betas and reminds me how long it's been since I've last written/posted. Couldn't do this without you!

A huge note of apology – when I thought about editing this for posting I realized I had forgotten which chapter I had last posted, meaning that waaaay too long has past. Life in the form of school has really been kicking my ass, and writing has taken a back seat for quite awhile now. I don't really foresee it getting any better in the next year, but I have about three more chapters written that I should be able to post somewhat sporadically, until I get my life back again. No promises for when the next chapter will appear, but I hope whenever it does you'll be kind enough to stick around and read!

Also – I winced a little, when rereading this. Not too sure why – overly critical, or maybe it's just been too long since I've worked on it, but... At any rate, I hope it didn't disappoint.

As always, thanks for the reviews – I may not have time to write, but I do read them, and I appreciate the support so very much. You guys are great!

Finally – just wondering. Although I have very little time to work on Heart, I do occasionally write short drabbles, for one reason or another. If I were to post these, say on lj, would anyone be interested? They're mainly original pieces, and very short. I'm interested to know if anyone would read – or if you'd much rather I concentrated on Heart instead!


End file.
